MIA: Missing in America
by Kneoria
Summary: NCIS is called in to what should be a simple case; find a missing marine. However the case is quickly complicated when it is discovered that the missing marine is the best friend of two other marines, one of whom has been dead for a month and the other who is still missing.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** MIA: Missing In America

**Summary:** NCIS is called in to what should be a simple case; find a missing marine. However the case is quickly complicated when it is discovered that the missing marine is the best friend of two other marines, one of whom has been dead for a month and the other who is still missing.

**Pairings: **None/Cannon and PruCan if you squint. If I managed to write it right, that is.

**Warnings: **Language, UST, possible Out of Character moments, and random references to other fandoms that the Audience may not understand. Set after Jenny Shepard's death, but before Eli David's. This is a Triple crossover between NCIS, NCIS: LA, and Hetalia: Axis Powers

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to their respective owners. I simply play with them for my, and your amusement.

**Authors Note: **So this is a story that I have been working on for quite some time. It is unbetaed but I hope that you all enjoy it.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

Joan bit her lip in worry as she stepped out of the car. How was she going to explain this to Kevin? Sure she was pregnant, but that did not mean that people had to treat her as if she were made of glass. She could still work. But no, her boss and his ideas of chivalry had told her to go home and take time off.

She locked the car and started up the walk to the front door. Two weeks until the due date, with no work at all. Normally this would be a godsend, a well-received break from the stress of her job at the hospital, but the break meant nothing to do. The remodeling was almost done, and Kevin wouldn't let her help anyways.

The only good thing about all of this would be that Kevin was actually home to help with all of the housework. Joan smiled at that. It had been nice to hear that her husband would not be deployed again, at least not for another two months. The problems caused by boredom before and the tiredness of after were far less when her husband was here. Any problems from either of their jobs would not matter either. They had proven to themselves that they could work out their problems a month before. Joan grew somber as she recalled the events at the beginning of last month, and then pushed it out of mind. No moping, she told herself firmly. It would be hard enough to convince Kevin to let her do anything, without feeling sorry for herself.

Opening the door, Joan shrugged off her jacket and hung it up in the closet. "Kevin?" she called "I'm home." Shutting the closet door, Joan made her way to the kitchen. "When I showed up for work today Dr. Cormic took one look at me, walked me out of the room and informed me that I was now on Maternity leave and I was to go directly home, and let my wonderful husband take care of me." Well that was not what her boss said exactly. He had been a lot more blunt and it had been slightly embarrassing.

No response. Maybe he hadn't heard her. Joan kept talking, projecting her voice so that she could be heard throughout the house. "Anyways," She continued, stopping to place her purse on the hall table, "It means that I wont get any pay for the next month or so. Will we be ok?" she asked out loud. Still no answer. Now that was strange. If her husband simply had not heard her at the beginning, by now he should have. "Kevin?" she called a note of worry in her voice. No answer. Joan backtracked out of the kitchen and walked into the bedroom. "Kevin?" She called again the worry now evident in her voice. He wasn't here either. Maybe he had gone to work outside. If so, then no amount of shouting would reach him. Joan took a breath to calm herself as she walked into the living room. She peered outside against the glare of the sun to see if Kevin was working on the lawn. He wasn't there but something was wrong. She could tell. Joan looked down at the floor, and screamed. A few moments later, she had gotten herself under control enough to get to a phone.

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself as the person on the other end of the line began talking, "Nine One One. What is your emergency?"

Joan inhaled and the words came out in a rush "Myhusbandismissingandthereis alargeamountofbloodontheback porch. I" she took a deep breath "I th. th. th. th. I think… I think he may be dead!"

* * *

Chapter 1: Of Boxes and Lost bets

* * *

Something plopped onto the corner of McGee's desk. He glanced at it. It appeared to be a box, and McGee ignored it as he finished entering data into the system.

"McGeek!" an obnoxious voice said from above him.

"What do you want Tony?" McGee said looking up at his coworker and the box that he was leaning on.

"McGeek, enter these cases for me." Tony DiNozzo.

"No"

"Come on McGeek."

"I said no Tony."

"I'll owe you one."

"You already do, Tony" McGee said

"I do?" Tony asked confused.

"Yeah, you do. You still haven't paid me the ten from the bet last month."

"Are you sure? I thought I paid you back for that. On Tuesday."

"No." Ziva spoke up. "You did not pay McGee back on Tuesday, because then you would have had to pay me back as well."

McGee nodded his head in agreement, with Ziva's statement. "Besides, I have my own case files to enter." He added almost as an afterthought.

Tony snorted, almost grateful for the topic change. He hated being reminded that he owed people. "Yeah, But knowing you McGoo, they're probably almost done"

McGee shot Tony a look, then shook his head. "No Tony. I won't do your work for you. That's final. You should do your own work before Gibbs finds out"

Tony opened his mouth to retort but before he could a gruff voice cut him off asking, "Find out what McGee?"

A look of slight panic came across Tony's face, and McGee ignored it looking up to see his boss, Leroy Jethro Gibbs making his way towards his desk. "That ummm…"

"Tony is behind on his case files, Gibbs" Ziva said, clearly not wanting to deal with the bickering.

Gibbs just nodded then said "Catch up later, DiNozzo. Gear up!"

Tony scrambled back to his own desk to gather his stuff, leaving the box behind on McGee's desk, while Ziva grabbed her backpack. McGee glared at the box then said aloud "What do we have boss?"

Gibbs stopped at his desk and grabbed the keys out of a drawer before answering. "We've got…" He paused, and experiencing a sort of déjà vu said "That's a good question McGee"

Tony froze and looked up from his backpack "Whoa, another Psycho case Boss?"

"Psycho?" Ziva asked confused then snapped her fingers in rememberance. "Ah, The bathroom"

"On a patio this time." Was all Gibbs said as they crowded into the elevator.

* * *

"The house should be in this neighborhood" McGee said fighting to stay in his seat as the car turned sharply around a corner then slowed to a more manageable speed.

"I'll bet it's that house right there, Probie" Tony said from the front seat, pointing his finger at a house two doors down.

"Why would you say that Tony?"

"Because that's the only house on the block with a couple of Metro PD Detective standing in the front yard."

The two detectives in question looked up as the dark blue car pulled up against the curb, with the medical van close behind. Tony hopped out of the car squinting against the sun at the older detective. After a moment he called out "Dee Laytner? Hey man! How have you been? When did you make detective?"

The detective looked up when his name was called. "DiNozzo?" He asked and a smile lit up his face "A couple of years ago. What are you doing here?" He didn't even let Tony answer the question before continuing. "Ah, right you jumped ship on us. How have you been man?"

"Right, I'm with NCIS now. And life's been good. Hey are we going to have juristictional argument on who takes the lead on this one?"

Dee laughed took the clipboard from his partner and handed it off to Tony. "Naw man, the case is all yours. Have fun, it's a doozy."

Suddenly his partner spoke up. "You won't be needing that yet."

Everyone turned to look to see to whom he was talking to. Palmer and Ducky had started to pull the gurney out of the medical van. At their questioning look, the detective elaborated. "We haven't found a body yet."

As the group puzzled over that information, Jimmy Palmer, the assistant ME, voiced what they were all now wondering. "Excuse me but, if there isn't a body then why are we here?"

The mortician, Dr. Mallard but known as Ducky to the team, looked up at his assistant then said aloud, "I am now wondering that myself, my boy. Jethro?" he asked not turning around, but pushed the gurney back into the truck and pulled out his bag "Why _are_ we here?" Gibbs just shrugged and looked back at the Metro Officers, waiting for further explanation.

"There's enough blood so that there should be one." Dee said with a slight shrug. "The woman who called in said that there was a lot of blood on her patio. When we got here there was no body. We taped off the area and started to search but didn't find anything before we learned that her husband was a Marine. We stopped then, and called you. We've heard that you like to do things for yourselves. We did recommend that you bring a medical examiner in case you found one. " A phone rang shrilly and the other detective answered walking away from the group so that he wouldn't interrupt the conversation.

"Ah. Well thank you then for your foresight" Ducky was saying, satisfied with the explanation he had been given. There was a brief pause as a smile appeared on his face and he started saying "You know this reminds me of a time when I was in Scotland, and this young man came in with a… "

He was interrupted by a call of "Dee!" and they turned to look at the other detective who was waving a cell phone in the air. "Chief just called. We gotta go."

"What does the badger want now?" Dee complained to his partner's back as he was already heading towards their car.

"We've got a lead!" came the reply, causing a new expression to come over Dee's face. He turned to the NCIS team. "Sorry about this, we have to run. Everything that we know is in there" he motioned to the clipboard that Tony was holding. "Catch ya later Tony. Wait up Ryo!" He hollered, and the Metro PD detective took off running after his partner.

"He's always been like that." Tony said with a shrug handing Gibbs the clipboard as they watched the car speed off. Ducky took the moment to continue his story. "As I was saying, one time a young man came in with…"

"Duck…" Gibbs said cutting him off, a slight warning in his voice.

Dr. Mallard looked up at him with a smile "Another time then?" and Gibbs nodded as he started walking up to the door. The rest of the team followed behind. Knocking on the door, the team was treated to a yell of "Just a minute" and then the door was open by a very pregnant woman. She looked at the group with exasperation and exhaustion was evident on her face. "If you guys are with the police, then I just told you everything that I know."

Gibbs shook his head and showed her the badge. "Special Agent Gibbs." He nodded at the rest of the team in turn "Special Agents DiNozzo, McGee, David and Dr. Mallard. We're NCIS, Miss…" He trailed off inviting her to finish.

"Samson. Joan Samson." She said looking at them.

Gibbs looked at her. "You called the police about your missing husband?" She nodded, looking slightly wary.

"Mrs. Samson, we have some questions for you about your husband. Can we come in and look at the crime scene?"

Joan visibly deflated, giving into her apparent exhaustion. "Yeah, come on in." she walked away from the door, leading the group into the living room, where she sank down onto the sofa. "Your crime scene is out back. You can get to it from the kitchen which is through the door to your left."

Gibbs nodded, all business. "DiNozzo: crime scene, bag and tag, photos, sketches. Duck, see how much blood it is and if its actually enough to mean there is a body. David, you and I will, search the backyard, see how they got in and look for a body. McGee, take her statement." He handed McGee the clipboard then followed the rest of his team out the way Mrs. Samson had indicated and didn't look back. Behind him he heard McGee start, with a "Can you please tell me what happened, Mrs. Samson?"

* * *

"Any one have something?" Gibbs asked as he stepped out onto the patio and almost directly into a huge pool of blood. Changing his course mid-stride Gibbs stepped over the narrowest part of the pool. "Anything?" he asked looking around. The backyard was rather average with the beginnings of a heavily wooded area bordering the yard. The blood was right by the sliding glass door that he had just stepped through. The patio was concrete which had allowed the blood to pool and prevented it from going anywhere. The pool itself was already dry at the edges but the middle was still a liquid.

Ducky glanced up at Gibbs from where he was bent over, examining the pool. "That's strange," he said, looking at Gibbs. "Jethro, there are at least 2 liters of blood here. No one could loose that much and live. There should be a body here somewhere"

Tony spoke up from his left, still on the patio but a good few feet away, taking a picture of something that appeared to lead into the light forest that bordered the area. "Gibbs, more blood over here. I don't think that it's from the same person who caused that pool, though. The stuff over here is just drops, but condensed, like someone cut themselves on something and didn't have time to do anything about it."

Gibbs nodded his head and then looked around. One of his team had wandered off. "Where's Ziva?" he asked.

"Here Gibbs," her accented Israeli voice floated out from just inside the trees. Moments later the woman in question appeared, apparently retracing her steps. "The blood drops lead this way. I followed them, and searched the area but did not find a body. Based on the footprints I found, I think that there were two people standing here on the patio, and that three or four more people came. Whatever their original purpose was, they killed one of the two men on accident then carried off the other and the body, but did not have enough time to clean up the blood. There is a service road a little ways away with more footprints and fresh tire tracks on it. I am guessing they belong to the perpetrators."

Gibbs nodded. That seemed to be the most logical explanation for how they got away. But they also could not be sure. It was just as likely that the pool was Mr. Samson's blood and the perpetrators took the body. Just then McGee stepped outside. He too almost stepped into the blood pool. Gibbs moved over so that his agent could stand next to him. Time to test Ziva's theory. "Was her husband expecting guests today McGee?" Gibbs asked as Tony took pictures of the blood trail.

McGee shook his head. "No, boss. Mrs. Samson says that he was alone and already working on the baby room when she left at nine o'clock this morning heading to work."

Gibbs frowned. It didn't immediately disprove Ziva's theory. Someone could have dropped in unexpectedly while Mrs. Samson was out. It did however make his unspoken one seem more likely.

"Then whose blood is this?" Tony asked from the other side of the mess.

"I don't know, DiNozzo. They could both be from the husband, or it could be as Ziva supposed and there were two people here. That's what we're going to figure out. Get some pictures of the footprints that Ziva found, a mold of those tire tracks and some samples for Abby then head back to base. There's nothing more we can do here."

"Ok Gibbs," Tony said reaching down for the swabs, only to find that Ducky and the autopsy gremlin had already gotten the samples. "Ducky and Palmer already got the samples Gibbs. I'll just go get those pictures and that mold then we'll be ready to roll."

* * *

"Hi Tony! What did you bring me today?" Abigail "Abby" Scuito, the happy goth forensic scientist, inquired as Tony walked into her lab.

"Blood, footprints, a mold of some tire tracks and some other photos." Was the response as Tony lifted up the bags and camera.

"Cool." Abby said taking the items from him. "So what's the case today? Murder? Kidnapping? Or something completely different?"

"Both" Tony said, nonchalantly.

"Both?" she turned to look at him confused.

"Both a murder and or a kidnapping. We think." Seeing her look, Tony just shrugged. "A woman called the police saying that her husband was missing and she thought that he was dead. They found out he was a Marine and called us. When we got there, the crime scene was just this big puddle of blood. It wasn't even dry all the way. According to Ducky, there was at least two liters"

Abby gaped at him "Tony, there is no way anyone could have survived loosing that much blood."

"We know. Ziva is of the opinion that there were two people there, and the perps killed one and kidnapped the other. Gibbs is a little more skeptical. There was more blood, a little ways away that simply looked like someone had cut himself. Either way, the body and the marine are missing"

"Weird." Abby said going to her computer to start up the DNA tests.

"I know." Tony said "McGeek is looking up information on this guy, so I need to get back upstairs."

Abby just nodded, as she prepped her machines and Tony slipped out the door.

* * *

McGee stared at the screen in shock as he looked through Private Kevin Samson's file. The man was 29, enrolled right out of high school, done 3 tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, married one Joan Kennewick, his high school girlfriend, two years ago and had a clean record. All fairly normal, and not at all shocking. What was shocking was the unit that he had been assigned to.

"McGee?" Ziva asked concerned for her friend. He was staring at the screen with a strange expression on his face. No response. Not even a sign that he had heard her. "McGee?" It was as if he had paused out.

"Woah, what's wrong with McGeek?" Tony's voice said from over her shoulder.

Ziva merely shrugged. "I do not know. He just suddenly stopped typing and got a strange look on his face. It is like he paused out or something."

Tony blinked at her. "You mean spaced out Zee-vah." He said, smile on his face purposefully stretching out her name.

She waved her hand at him. "Yes that. But how do we get him out of it before Gibbs gets back? Have you found anything?"

"Nope. Have you?"

"Nothing strange on his credit cards or his phone records. The man is mousy clean."

"Squeaky clean. Well, McGee obviously does. Otherwise he wouldn't have reacted like that. I'm going to try to snap him out of it."

Just then Gibbs walked in, cup of coffee in his hand. "Snap who out of it?" He turned then spotted McGee just sitting there "McGee!" he snapped, tone voicing no arguments. McGee jumped, and looked up at his boss with wide eyes.

"Boss," he said in a strange voice "You need to see this…" his fingers flying across the keyboard, to pull the information up on the plasma.

Gibbs, Tony and Ziva turned to look to see Private Kevin Samson's records appear on the screen. After a few minutes of reading, it was unclear what the problem was. The man was squeaky clean as Ziva had put it, no blemishes on his record at all. Gibbs stared at the screen waiting for whatever McGee was trying to show him. It wasn't obvious. "McGee," He said patiently but more than slightly annoyed "What is it that I am supposed to be looking at?"

"Umm well boss…" he began, looked at the screen and started typing. Moments later the screen split into two and a photo appeared next to the records. Tony stepping closer to peer at what appeared to be a unit picture, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Boss-man, this guy belongs to the same unit with that case last month"

Gibbs looked back to the screen. Yep, same number, same unit, same faces in the picture. He was starting to get a bad feeling about all of this and briefly registered McGee saying, "According to the statements that we got last time, this was Private Jones and Private Straight's best friend."

"So, the Third Musketeer then?" Tony asked with a smile

"Yeah." McGee said

"Did we ever find Private Jones?" Gibbs asked suddenly.

His agents hesitated, and then shook their heads in variations of No.

"Did the other team have better luck?"

"Not to my knowledge" said Tony

"Get the file back from the other team and find him. Or his next of kin." He said as he walked off hearing Tony exclaim, "Hey McGee, I bet I can find Jones or his relative before you."

* * *

**AN: **And that is just the beginning. If you like it, please leave a review. If you didn't, please tell me why not. If you have questions ask away. If you found a typo please point it out so that I can fix it. And if you have the time, please check out my other story American Magic Cubed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** MIA: Missing In America

**Summary:** NCIS is called in to what should be a simple case; find a missing marine. However the case is quickly complicated when it is discovered that the missing marine is the best friend of two other marines, one of whom has been dead for a month and the other who is still missing.

**Pairings: **None/Cannon and PruCan if you squint. If I managed to write it right, that is.

**Warnings: **Language, UST, possible Out of Character moments, and random references to other fandoms that the Audience may not understand. Appologies for bad german/canadian/accents. Set after Jenny Shepard's death, but before Eli David's. This is a Triple crossover between NCIS, NCIS: LA, and Hetalia: Axis Powers

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to their respective owners. I simply play with them for my, and your amusement.

**Authors Note: **Wow. 3 reviews, 3 favorites, and 9 follows in a week. That's kinda amazing. Well here's Chapter 2. The next chapter may take a while to upload, but the eventual goal is to get 1 chapter up a month, so this is more like the chapter for April so that you guys don't have to wait forever. This is where the Hetaila characters start coming in and Hijacking my story. Still unbetaed, so if you see any errors please point them out. Especially with the accents.

* * *

Chapter 2: Blood of a Nation

* * *

*Three days later*

"_Tragedy has once again befallen one of the nation's Elite Marine Units" _The TV announced "_One month ago a member of this unit was found dead. At first, the death was viewed as an accident but investigation led to the knowledge that the body was only the most recent in a series of serial killings. At the same time Private Alfred F Jones was also discovered to be missing and it was presumed that he too fell victim to the serial killer. The murderer was apprehended and went on trail two weeks ago. She was proven guilty but denies ever killing Private Jones. NCIS is still searching for him. Then three days ago Private Kevin Samson, a member of the same Marine unit and friend to both Marines, was reported missing and is presumed to dead by authorities. They came to this conclusion when his wife, Joan Samson reported his disappearance to the police and upon investigation discovered a large amount of blood on her back porch. The Naval Criminal Investigation Services has increased their search for the missing private but they refuse to say if Private Jones is a suspect, or anything else on the matter. If you have any information call…."_

Matthew Williams was shocked. His brother was missing. From the way the report was continuing on, it sounded like they were already accusing his brother of being a murderer. Which was impossible. Alfred loved all of his citizens way too much. It was why he took in anyone and everyone. It was why he went to war as a private with them.

A strange hissing sound interrupted his train of thought. It was followed by a heavily accented, highly amused voice. "Vell, now ve know vhy ve haf not been able to find your bruder. He is in hiding"

Matthew turned to look at his albino friend who was coming out of the bathroom, wrapped up in towel, silver hair turned grey and plastered to his head with water. "Its not funny Gilbert" he scolded lightly

"Ja, It is." The Prussian paused for a moment then shrugged his trademark smirk present on his face, "Ok maybe not funny to you, but definitely amusing to me."

Matthew just rolled his eyes and flopped back onto his bed as Gilbert dropped the towel and began to get dressed. "Alfred" He said into his pillow, "What the hell have you gotten into now?"

"Vögelchen," Gilbert said, pulling on a pair of pants, "If it bothers you that much ve can go talk to the NCIS people. They probably vant to talk to you anyvays."

Matthew mumbled something incoherent into his pillow, and Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Vögelchen, I know I am awesome and have awesome hearing, but it is still hard to hear you when you try to suffocate yourself in a pillow." He said good-naturedly.

Matthew made a rude gesture in response, but lifted his head up to look at Gilbert. "Why, would my brother's people want to talk to me?"

Gilbert shrugged while he pulled a shirt out of the suitcase. He held it up to his nose then tossed it onto the bed and pulled out another shirt. "Gotta do laundry soon" he commented off handedly, then continued more seriously "and vhy vouldn't they? They are government people trying to find your bruder, and you are listed as the next of kin."

Matthew frowned. "Why haven't they called us then? If he's been missing for a month, and the Marine has been dead two days, why haven't they called us?"

Gilbert pulled out another shirt and pulled this one on. "Really Mattie? You haf to ask? Ve're nations. Looking for one of us raises all kinds of flags. And ve have been traveling all over your bruder's land looking for him, leaving all kinds of confusing paper trails. I vould be surprised if they found us before today."

"Right" Matthew drawled. "And what would you have us do now, oh awesome knowledge bearer?" he asked sarcastically.

Gilbert just smirked. "Vell" he drawled in the exact same tone of voice that Matthew had been using "I vould call them and then ve vould go in to help. That vay, you could steer them avay from dangerous things that they shouldn't know."

Matthew shut his mouth. He had been about to protest going in because they might discover who they were, but his friend's logic made sense. Wait a minute… "We?" He asked Gilbert surprise showing on his face.

"Ja, ve. If you vent by yourself, you vould probably be too shy and quite for them to notice you." Gilbert shrugged. "You really need to fix that."

Matthew rolled his eyes at his friend again and fwumped back into the pillow. "All right," he said rolling on to his side to face his friend, and sticking out his hand. "I'll call them."

Gilbert looked at him confused, then high fived Matthew's upturned palm. At Matthew's exasperated look, Gilbert shrugged and asked "Vat?"

"Gilbert, I need the phone. Can you get it for me?"

"Fuck Noh. Gettit yourself."

"Gilbert. Get me the phone please."

"Hmmmm. Noh. I vill not get you the phone."

"Really?"

"Ja, Really. Und der is nottink you cahn do about it."

"Not true. I can do something."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at the last statement and turned around to look at his friend. Moments later, he was flat on his back, on the floor with a pillow in his face. He sat there for a minute shocked and could hear Matthew calling his name worriedly. He blinked and soon the sound of his laughter filled the air. He popped back up looking over at his best friend with amusement in his eyes, "So that's how its going to be then?" and proceeded to chuck the pillow back at Matthew. 30 minutes later, feathers were all over the room and the two grown men were struggling to breath through their laughter and laying side by side on one of the two beds. The cell phone that had started the mess, was sitting between them. Matthew caught his breath and grabbed the phone, punching in the number for NCIS that had been on the television screen. Gilbert watched his friend and counted fight as a win. Matthew had grabbed the phone himself after all. Sitting up Gilbert ran his hands through his hair impatient to leave already. He needed to move. Hopping off of the bed, Gilbert threw open the hotel window and a small yellow bird flew in landing on his head. Gilbert looked up at his bird with a smile and began talking to it softly, as the two of them waited as patiently as they could while Matthew was on the phone.

* * *

"Find anything yet, McSleuth?" Tony said leaning back in his chair.

McGee just rolled his eyes and continued looking at his computer screen. "No Tony, as I said five minutes ago I don't know where Matthew Williams is. I'm looking ok?"

"No, McGee that is not ok. Normally it only takes us one day. One day to find everyone involved and talk to them. Three days is somewhat of a record for not being able to notify family."

"Stop pestering McGee, Tony. I do not think that you have discovered anything either. Otherwise you would be demanding that we get you coffee for winning the bet, and finding Private Jones before McGee got in touch with his brother." Ziva said looking over at Tony. "You are not even working."

"Who's not working?" Gibbs asked as he walked towards his desk, coffee in hand.

"No one boss." Tony said quickly, sitting up in his chair.

Gibbs just looked at his disbelievingly. "Are we any closer to find Jones or getting in touch with his brother?"

"No luck on Jones." Tony said.

"I haven't found his brother, yet either." McGee said.

Gibbs looked over at Ziva who simply shook her head no. Exasperated he threw up his hands. "Well what do we have then?" He demanded

McGee looked sheepish and pulled up a photo onto the screen. "Meet Matthew Williams. Born at 11:59 July first. Twin brother to the missing Private Alfred F Jones, age 23, single never married. He currently lives in Ottawa Canada, but regularly visits the other providences. Williams was a Member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and constantly got pulled for special assignment, and now teaches Canadian and World history at the local high school. When I called to ask the school to talk to him, they said that he had taken a two-month vacation to go to the USA to deal with family matters. They didn't seem to be too worried that he was not there. Apparently he also consults from the government from time to time so he flies around the world a lot. I found records of two-plane tickets in his name to Honolulu, Hawaii from Juneau, Alaska and then another to LAX from Hawaii. I couldn't find any records of a cell phone, but I'm looking through his credit card records now." McGee finished. "He's hard to track down. I'm not sure why though. Aside from consulting for the government, the man is a normal citizen."

"Find him" Gibbs ordered.

"Yes Gibbs" McGee answered and went back to watching the screen.

"What do we have on Private Jones?"

Tony leapt out of his chair to stand next to the screen. He pointed the remote and the picture changed. "Private Alfred F. Jones. Born 00:05 July 2 but celebrates July 4. He is now 23, single, never married. Served in Iraq, and just returned Afghanistan one month ago. Best friend to Private Straight and our missing Private Samson. Went AWOL just before Straight was killed. Last time anyone saw him was when he and Samson drove Private Straight home from the bar the night their unit returned. Nothing on his credit cards, or phone records since he disappeared but before that, there were a lot of calls to a residence in England. He also took a lot of trips around the country, and is also consistently pulled for special assignment. I couldn't find what he was working on though. It pulled up all kinds of red flags."

Gibbs nodded. "Why different last names? And where do they go? What do they consult on?"

At that both Tony and McGee looked up. "I don't know Boss." McGee said. "The file didn't say."

"Neither did Jones's" Tony added helpfully.

Gibbs glared at him. "Find them." He repeated. "Ziva, any luck on finding out why someone would want to kidnap or kill Samson?"

"No, Gibbs. I have not had any luck, but I will keep looking." She responded looking up from her computer. "There was nothing special about him. He does not even have access to classified information. Poor family, no siblings, parents deceased. Has a house with his wife, Joan. I checked out her background to see if was blackmail against her. I could not find anything. Mrs. Samson is a doctor at the local hospital and doesn't do anything with the government. So I hit a building."

"Wall" Tony interjected.

Gibbs opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by ringing of his cell. He answered and was nearly defend by an excited "Gibbs, Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs!"

"Yes, Abbs?"

"I found something."

"Alright Abbs I'm on my way." Gibbs said and surveyed the room. "Keep looking." He said again and headed off towards the elevator.

* * *

Abby was bouncing with excitement as her music blared on. She had found something huge and weird. And now all she had to do was wait for Gibbs to get there to show him. She didn't wait long as he walked in at just that moment. "Whatta got Abbs?"

"Something really really weird! Do you want the weird one first or the normal one first?" She asked beaming at him.

Gibbs just looked at her then said, "I want you to turn the music down."

Abby pouted slightly, but complied with an "Ok Gibbs." and then continued on to the evidence. "The footprints were useless. I couldn't get anything from them. Just standard dress shoes." Turning back to her computer she quickly pulled up a picture of the tire tracks. "The car that you are looking for is actually a van. It's a Ford Transit Connect. And I know that doesn't help much cause they are pretty common and I didn't know which color it was either, so that probably doesn't help either."

"Is that what you called me down here for Abbs?"

"Gibbs," she almost whined. "I'm not done yet."

He just looked at her, waiting for her to go on. "So I ran the two blood samples. The first one, the one that came from the smaller blood sample came back as a match for Private Samson. And then the other blood sample matched it."

"So there was only one person then?" Gibbs inquired raising an eyebrow.

"Nope! There were definitely two people there" Abby exclaimed gleefully. At Gibbs exasperated look, she elaborated. "It was only a partial match with an 80%. That would mean a sibling, or a parent."

Gibbs frowned as he let the information sink in. What was it that Ziva had said about his siblings? "But Samson was an only child."

"I know!" Abby said, "Weird right? So I ran it again because I thought it was a glitch or contaminated and I got the same thing. So I decided that there was nothing that I could do about it because of the nature of DNA allows the chance that something like that could actually happen. So then I opened the search for the second sample to all of the databases I could access and that's when things got really really hinky. According to the data that I received, the blood matches every American citizen, criminals and marines alike by 80%. Every citizen that has been naturalized for at least 15 years matches for the same amount but anyone who's been a naturalized citizen for less time matches with a percentage range of 72% to 79%." Abby turned to look at her boss. "And he's O positive! Do you realize just how impossible that is? That means that the man could be a donor for almost everyone in the country!"

Gibbs just hmmed in response as he took in the information. Abby was right. That was strange. "did you get an actual ID on who the pool of blood belonged to?"

"Yep! There were a couple of results that came in with a match of higher than 80%. There was a 97% match that was from the only foreign match, a Canadian by the name of Matthew Williams, and then a 99% match from his twin, our very own Alfred F Jones, missing marine from last month's case." Abby said with a smile

Now Gibbs was annoyed. This missing marine was showing up everywhere in his investigation. His musing was interrupted by an excited "So?" from Abby.

"Good work Abbs." Gibbs said, placing down the Caf-Pow that he had brought, kissed her on the forehead and walked out of the lab. They really needed to find Jones or his brother.

* * *

McGee was feeling very proud of himself. Sure it had taken him three days, but he had found Matthew Williams. A ringing phone caused him to look up. It was Ziva's and she answered it with a "NCIS, Special Agent Ziva David speaking" She fell silent, as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. Tony was lounging at his desk, but Gibbs was nowhere to be seen. Just then a ding sounded from the elevator, and the door slid open revealing whom McGee had wanted to see. "Boss!" he yelled across the bullpen. "I found him!"

"What?" Tony asked in disbelief and he was on his feet in an instant. "You found who?"

"I found Matthew Williams, Tony." McGee smiled. "It looks like you owe me coffee."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do DiNozzo." Gibbs said, speaking up. He stood there for a second waiting, then demanded "Well McGee? You said you found him. Where is he?"

"In a hotel in Downtown D.C. He just used his card to pay for the hotel room. Here's the address." McGee added, handing Gibbs a slip of paper.

Gibbs nodded. "Alright. Good work McGee. Tony, get him his coffee later. We're going to pick up Mr. Williams."

"You do not need to, Gibbs." Came Ziva's voice as she put down the phone. "I was just talking to Mr. Williams. He said that he and his friend would come by in fifteen to forty five minutes to talk to us. They want to help us find his brother." She turned thoughtful. "I believe that means you owe me a coffee as well, Tony"

Tony just gaped at the two of them. He couldn't believe it. The last two bets that he had made, he had lost. It wasn't fair. "No I don't" he quickly ground out hoping to weasel his way out of the situation. A quick glance at the clock confirmed what he had hoped would not be true. It was about 9:30 in the morning. The coffee cart would be crowed, and he did not want to wait in that line.

Gibbs looked at him. "Yes it does. Go get them their coffee DiNozzo. Now. We have time before Mr. Williams and his friend get here." And with that Gibbs turned around, sat in his desk, and waited patiently for his archaic computer to boot up. Tony grumbled under his breath, but headed towards the elevator just the same.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, the elevator door opened and Tony walked back into the office carrying four cups of coffee. McGee was on the phone, Gibbs and Director Vance were talking and Ziva was working on the computer.

"Here" he said handing her a cup. "Black with sugar."

"Thank you Tony." Ziva said reaching for the cup.

"Hey, has Jones's brother gotten here yet?"

"No, but they have another 10 minutes before they are late."

Tony just nodded and wandered over to McGee's desk and handed him his almond late. "Yeah, Let him up." McGee said into the phone as he took the coffee, looking around for someone or something. "I don't see the other guy though, maybe he went to the bathroom?" The person on the other end of the said something and McGee chuckled, and the conversation started to die down as Tony drifted towards his boss and the Director who were deep in conversation. "Here, Boss." He said handing Gibbs his coffee, and they both turned to look at him, stopping their conversation.

"What took you so long DiNozzo?" He asked, as Vance watched the exchange between two of them, waiting patiently to get back to the conversation.

"They moved the coffee cart boss. It took me a few minutes to find it, and when I did" Tony broke off there looking at his boss's face, "And you don't really care, do you boss? I'll be faster next time."

Gibbs nodded, and Vance took the moment to ask, "Have you found Jones yet?"

"Not Jones" Tony said, "We found his brother. He's supposed to be here any minute now."

Vance nodded, and the two returned to their previous conversation. Tony, clearly dismissed, made his way over to Ziva's desk. "So what have they been talking about?"

"The director and Gibbs have been trying to figure out what it is exactly that Private Jones consults on."

"You mean Vance doesn't know?"

"Apparently not." She shrugged, "According to the conversation, Vance does not think that Sec. Nav. knows either."

Tony's eyebrows went up and an expression of shock came over his face. In a dramatic stage whisper, he asked "Sec. Nav. Doesn't know?"

"That is what Vance suspects." Ziva said again, going back to typing on the computer while Tony sat in shock on the corner of her desk. The elevator door opened with a ding, and Tony turned to watch it, as his coworkers did their jobs, and their bosses discussed secret stuff. Out of the elevator strode a young, silver haired, pale man with red eyes, holding two cups of coffee. He made a beeline towards the brick pillar that separated a couple of windows right in front of their desks. Tony raised an eyebrow and nudged Ziva.

"That's the guy who was ahead of me in line. Wonder what he's doing here?" Ziva simply shrugged, her attention not wavering from the screen, as Tony openly stared. "He got rid of the chick though." He added offhandedly.

That statement caused Ziva to look up at Tony. "What?" she asked disbelievingly, not sure she had heard that correctly.

"The chick. While I was in the line, that man had a little bird sitting on his head. Y'know a chick." Tony looked at her curiously, and a little smug. "What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing" she said, and redirected her attention to the albino who had walked in. He had stopped at the windows just in front of their desks ignoring them, as they looked him over.

"Matt, you didn't boder to say anyting did you?" the strange man said, very clearly annoyed, while handing a man who almost literally appeared out of nowhere, one of the cups. Tony's jaw dropped. How long had the quite guy been standing there? How had he and more importantly how had Ziva, not noticed him? He glanced at her. She seemed just as shocked by this man's sudden appearance as he was. The albino didn't even wait for a response and he continued berating his friend. "I left you outside to get us coffee forty minutes ago, und you valk in, und don't say anything. Und den you fade into the background. Again. You really have to vork on dat. Der is a reason dat your bruder tinks you are a vuss. Und the rest of the vorld…" He was cut off by an elbow to the stomach, and the formerly invisible man said sarcastically in a soft tone, "Sorey Gilbert. Its just that I love" he rolled his eyes here, "having my plainness rubbed in my face. And we are making a scene."

Gilbert glanced up at the people starting at him and shrugged. "Und I care vhy? I ahm only here for moral support."

Matthew snorted and rolled his eyes, muttering a "yeah right." He walked forwards, towards the girl's desk that had the man sitting on it and asked "Ziva David? I'm Matthew Williams. We spoke on the phone."

Ziva smiled and shook his hand. "Yes, I believe we did. This is my co-worker Tony." She gestured at him, and kept going before he had a chance to say anything "It is nice of you to come in instead of us having to call." She glanced at Matthew's friend who was taking a sip of coffee and observing the group. He looked at them all briefly and then settled for starting at Director Vance, as if trying to figure out something. The Director was staring calmly back, as if there was nothing wrong with this at all. She filed it away for later and walked out from behind the desk saying, "If you and your friend could come this way, please?"

"Alright." Matthew said but he was not really watching her. He too had noticed that his best friend was staring at one of the people in the area, and that they were staring back. "Gil?"

"Mm?" Was his only reply as his friend took yet another sip of coffee, still looking at Vance. As Matthew watched, confusion changed to recognition and then surprise flashed across Gilbert's face. A moment later all three emotions had vanished, replaced by the smirk he normally wore and Matthew sighed. He knew his friend and his habits. Something like that could only mean that Gilbert knew something and he wasn't telling nor would be anytime soon.

"Come on." He said instead of asking what Gilbert was thinking. There were times he didn't want to know.

"Do I haf to?" Gilbert asked, slightly teasing his friend.

"You're the one who insisted on coming"

"Vat? I did noh such ting."

"Yes you did" Matthew replied as they followed Ziva down the hall.

* * *

The group watched Ziva lead the two bantering men down the hall in an uncomfortable silence. A few moments later Ziva had returned but still, it persisted. Finally after a few more heavy moments, Tony finally blurted out, "What was that all about?"

No one answered, and Tony took that as a signal to continue. "Seriously, that was really strange. It seemed like he recognized you or something, Director."

"I think he did." Was the curt response, and at that Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"What aren't you telling me Leon?"

Vance ignored the question, and instead turned to McGee. "McGee, look up a man by the name of Johan Günter."

"I thought Matthew called him Gilbert" Tony piped up, but he too was ignored as McGee typed the name into the computer.

"We don't have anything on him in the system"

Vance looked at him, in slight surprise. "What's going on?" Gibbs demanded, tired of waiting and Vance let out a soft sigh. "Twenty years ago," He began "My partner and I smuggled a man by that name out of the Eastern part of Germany. We'd found him imprisoned in an alleged KGB safe house. It was supposedly being used by the mafia, but we suspected that it was a front. We raided the place and found him in really bad shape, but still alive. He told us that his name was Johan Günter and he was a German intelligence officer. Then he passed out. The KGB or Mafia whoever they really were had anbandoned the house so we got him out of there. We were surprised when three months later, we ran into Johan again in the middle of one of our ops, in complete health and he helped take down various soviet operations. After the second op, we started asking him questions, about what he as doing back but mainly about how he had gotten captured in the first place. The most that we ever got from him, was that he did it to protect his little brother, and that he had a burning hatred for a Russian giant by the name of Ivan. Gilbert Whoever he is, looks almost exactly like him."

Gibbs looked at his boss then grabbed the case file and walked down the hall towards the conference room. This entire thing was bothering him and the bombshell that Leon had just dropped wasn't helping. Neither was the fact that they had never found Private Jones. Perhaps his brother knew but given that he had come in to talk, made Gibbs think that it was highly unlikely. Either way, it was time to talk to Mr. Williams and his friend for some answers.

* * *

There was no way this man was older than twenty, Gibbs decided as he walked into the conference room to find Gilbert No-last-name with his feet on the table. He stared at them, waiting for the man to move them, but the albino glanced up at him from over his phone and then proceeded to ignore him. Matthew noticed the exchange and with a small sigh, turned around in the chair and shoved his friend's feet off the table. That got Gilbert's attention and he looked back up from his phone to glare briefly at the man who ignored it and had turned his attention to Gibbs, who nodded his head in thanks. The pair continued to openly study one another each forming their own opinions as Gibbs sat down, rearranging the notebook and file and pulled out a pen.

Their study of each other was not quite finished yet and the silence in the room was only broken by the occasional noise from Gilbert's phone. Suddenly, the man sitting across from him smiled softly, as if he had passed some sort of test and stuck out his hand. "Matthew Williams" he said softly.

"Agent Gibbs." Gibbs said reaching out his own hand to shake it.

"Gilbert Beldishmitt" came a heavily accented voice startling them both, and they turned slightly to stare at the man who had been so vocal in the hall. He didn't bother to spare either of them a glance, just offered a lazy half wave, his attention focused on the phone in his hand.

Gibbs turned his attention back to Matthew, who was now shaking his head with a fond smile. He waited until he was sure that he had the young man's attention before pointedly looking from Matthew to Gilbert, and back again with one eyebrow raised clearly asking why the other man was here.

"Well umm…" Matthew began, stuttering slightly with a light pink coming into his cheeks, "He's ummm…." The man was clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed by the question but managed to get out a rushed "He's my partner" and a shocked, and defiantly awkward silence filled the room. It was broken after a few moments, as a strange hissing sound that Gibbs quickly realized was Gilbert's laughter filled the room. Gilbert paused for breath and managed to gasp out "I ahm so telling Francis hyu said that," his accent making the words near incomprehensible. After a few more minutes of laughter and labored breathing, Gilbert returned his attention to his phone and a very red faced Matthew was looking everywhere but at the two other people in the room.

Gibbs cleared his throat, getting Matthew to look at him again. "What took you so long to come to talk to us? Did you know that your brother was missing for a month?"

Matthew sighed and visibly deflated, the blush coming back under control. "Yeah, I knew." He said softly. "Al and I have a deal. Anytime he's coming back, he calls, and then calls when he gets here. He called to let me know he was coming home tomorrow, about a month ago and I haven't heard from him sense."

"Then why did it take you so long to come into NCIS?"

"Because my brother has a large number of hangouts across the country. When he didn't call me within the two days that it would take for him to get back, I got worried, so Gilbert and I drove up to Alaska, flew down to Hawaii, flew back into California and have been making our way through the rest of the states. We still actually have a few places to check, some in the DC area and a few more up the coast a bit. The last one is in Maine, and if we don't find him there then we were going to head home."

"Your brother has hangouts in all of the states?" He asked surprised, to which Matthew nodded hesitantly.

"Do you have a list?"

"Yes, but I don't think I can give it to you."

"Why?"

"It's classified" At that Gibbs looked up at Matthew, who offered a sheepish smile.

"Its Classified?"

"Yes."

"Who would I need to talk to, in order be read into this and see the list?"

Matthew was shocked by the question, but he tried not to show it. In reality that was a good question. Who would one need to talk to? "I don't know who you would need to talk to in the American Government." he said at last "Someone high up in the intelligence community, probably in your president's staff."

Gibbs stared at the man. He had been doing that a lot. It seemed that the answer to any question simply brought up even more questions. "Sure you don't have a name?"

"I'm sure" came the response, again with an apologetic shrug "and if I did I'm not sure I would be able to tell you."

"What does your brother do on his special assignments?" Gibbs asked

"I can't tell you that" came the answer and this time the quiet voice was firm.

"So you know what your brother does then?" Gibbs pushed, and Matthew's only response was to smile politely at him. That could mean anything, he decided and changed tracks. "Do your brother's special assignments have anything to do with what you consult on, in Canada?"

The response this time was a couple of blinks, and then Matthew spoke, all warmth and politeness gone from his voice "What I consult on and who it involves is also classified."

Gibbs sighed at that response, realizing that anything else along this topic would simply lead to more unanswered questions, or stonewalling. It was important though, Gibbs was sure, but asking about what the two did was not getting him anywhere so he switched topics again. "Why do you and your brother have different last names despite never having been married?"

"What?" came the slightly shocked response, as if the man had not expected him to go there. To be fair, he probably hadn't.

"Why do you and your bother have different last names?" Gibbs repeated, looking across the table. Matthew fidgeted slightly and glanced over at Gilbert, who looked at him from over his phone. After a moment of non-verbal communication, and one raised eyebrow from Gilbert, Matthew turned his attention back to Gibbs. "The simplest explanations is that when Al and I were teens, Alfred got into a fight with our guardian and ran away. That was the last name that he picked up when he left and I changed mine when I moved out"

Gibbs nodded and made a note on the paper to have one of his team check out this story and he moved on to the last question, and frankly the most uncomfortable. "Why do you think that your brother is still alive?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, that was let out in a sudden rush. Then Matthew asked in a cold voice "Excuse me?"

"Your brother has been missing for a month. Why do you think that he is still alive?"

"Because it's Alfred. He may be an uncultured, loud, stupid, idiot but he is my brother, and there is no way he is dead." Matthew paused for a moment before continuing. "The fact that you are asking means that you've found some evidence that you think proves that Alfred is dead, except something's missing or you would be telling me that you found his body, right?"

Gibbs just nodded at Matthew's assessment. For someone who was supposed to be a retired Canadian officer, he had a remarkable grasp of the inner workings of the American Law enforcement system. But Ducky's statement of how much blood had been lost stood out in his mind. And he trusted his team. But something was off. His gut was telling him as much. It had been telling him that something was wrong from the first time he had seen the man.

"Then damn your evidence." Matthew said with a passion "My brother is alive."

"If you don't think he is dead, do you think that he was kidnapped?" Gibbs asked, not having thought of it before.

Matthew paused, giving the question some consideration. "No, I don't think Al was kidnapped, but knowing him, it's entirely possible" he answered.

Gibbs nodded. "Does your brother's disappearance have anything to do with his special assignments?"

"Maybe?" Matthew shrugged. "I don't think so, but it's Al." He said as if that explaned everything and to him, it probably did. At that comment, Gilbert snorted but one could not tell if it was in agreement to it or for something else entierely. It had the addional bonus of reminding the others that he was still in the room. He had been quite for far to long and Ludwig would have been impressed, but now he needed to move.

"That's all of the questions that I have for now." Gibbs said, much to Gilbert's relief and all three men stood to go. "We'll call if we have anymore questions or find anything out."

Matthew nodded, and Gilbert bounced with impatience. "Ah, wait a second" Matthew said rooting in his pocket for something. Pulling out a pen and a piece of paper he quickly scribbled down a number, which he handed to Gibbs. "You'll probably have better luck reaching me here at this number"

Gibbs looked at the number, nodded, and placed it into his pocket. Then opening the door, he gestured for the two men to go first.

* * *

"Gil" Matthew began as they walked down the hall, "You're not really going to tell Francis are you?"

Gilbert just looked at his friend and burst out laughing and stopping in the middle of the hall. Gibbs would have run into him, if Matthew had not pulled him along and out of the way. When he had himself under control, he stood up straight and proclaimed "Course, I ahm."

Matthew looked utterly terrified by this idea. "Gilbert!" he squeaked

"He will be so excited that his frère is growing up, and experiencing the joys of la amour and all that pansy shit."

"Gilbert!"

"Oh, fine Mattie. I probably wont tell Francis."

"Probably?"

"Yeah probably" Gil said as they turned the corner walking to where the desks were. Matthew opened his mouth to reply when Gibbs spoke up interrupting the conversation, "Wait here, while I get an agent to show you two out."

Matthew nodded to show that he had heard but Gilbert grumbled. They weren't children.

"Gilbert," Matthew said exasperated, as Gibbs walked into his team's area. They all quickly walked away from McGee's desk. That meant that they had seen the questioning. Good. It meant that he wouldn't have to explain anything. "David, escort them out please."

She simply nodded, but Tony looked as if he was about to complain. "DiNozzo" he warned, and Tony's mouth shut with a snap and he sat back down at his desk.

"Mr. Williams, are you and your friend ready to go?" Ziva asked the soft-spoken man who was looking puzzled at the moment. He nodded lost in thought, muttering to himself. She stepped a little closer to hear what he was saying. "David…" He was saying her last name. Why? "Mr. Williams?" She asked again.

"Yes?" He asked looking up at her.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Ah, yes." He began, following her towards the elevator. "By any chance, are you Eli's daughter?"

Ziva stopped and turned to look at the man in shock. "How do you" she began but was interrupted by something blaring obnoxious music. Almost everyone in the room turned to look for the source of the noise, but Matthew just rolled his eyes and said "Gil, pick up your damn phone"

Everyone turned to look at the albino who was smirking at the amount of confusion that he had just caused. Enjoying the attention, Gilbert pulled out the phone tapping the screen to see what had caused it. The source of the problem was a text message, but not from a number he knew, and he raised an eyebrow in confusion. He was silent as he read the message, and most everyone returned to what they had been doing, consequently missing what happened next. As he read, Gilbert's face froze and wiped clean of emotion. "Matthew." His accent had grown even stronger, and Ziva could barely make out what was being said. "Ve haf to go. Now." Ziva didn't have to understand what was said to understand something was wrong as Gilbert all but dragged Matthew towards the elevator leaving Ziva to catch up.

The team watched as the doors slid closed, on Gilbert was furiously typing on his phone, and Ziva and Matthew had resumed their conversation. The silence was only interrupted by Tony's question of "Who put a burr under his saddle?

* * *

**AN: **And that was Chapter 2. As I mentioned earlier, this is the chapter for April, so you may or may not get another one until May depending on the writing process. Please, please, please, point out typos or accent errors. I am American, not German or Canadian, so if something said is horribly wrong, that is why.

Thank you for the lovely reveiws, especially to The Crosssover Addict, for pointing out my typo.

And so, once again I say, if you like it, please leave a review. If you didn't, please tell me why not. If you have questions ask away. If you found a typo please point it out so that I can fix it. And if you have the time, please check out my other story American Magic Cubed, which I feel that I should mention is under a different account and not this one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** MIA: Missing In America

**Summary:** NCIS is called in to what should be a simple case; find a missing marine. However the case is quickly complicated when it is discovered that the missing marine is the best friend of two other marines, one of whom has been dead for a month and the other who is still missing.

**Pairings: **None/Cannon and PruCan if you squint. If I managed to write it right, that is.

**Warnings: **Language, UST, possible Out of Character moments, and random references to other fandoms that the Audience may not understand. Appologies for bad german/canadian/accents. Set after Jenny Shepard's death, but before Eli David's. This is a Triple crossover between NCIS, NCIS: LA, and Hetalia: Axis Powers

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to their respective owners. I simply play with them for my, and your amusement.

**Authors Note: **So I lied and you get another chapter this month. Warning, this one is short. Like really really short.

* * *

Chapter 3: The difference between Interrogation and Conference rooms

* * *

There was silence in the darkened room as a man typed furiously on a keyboard.

"What the hell is this supposed to mean?" a voice asked breaking it.

"I don't know. Its not anything that I recognize" another voice stated.

"Does hero mean anything to anyone?" A feminine voice asked.

"Nope" was the response from the last voice, popping the p.

"And what the hell is a code 484569?" the first voice asked.

Everyone in the room shrugged and the silence returned. Even the man typing was quite. "Guys I got it!" he said after a second

"Well where is it?" the first man asked

"The phone's now at a bench right by the Santa Monica Pier. Umm the message…"

"Spit it out Eric," said the second voice.

Eric swallowed. "Its on the third floor of the NCIS building in the Naval yard in DC."

Disbeleif met that remark. "Its where?"

"In D.C." Eric repeated, already reaching for the phone "I'll call McGee"

"Put it on speaker," Callan advised. "Kensi, Deeks, go find our guy."

"What about you and Sam?" Kenzi asked

"We'll talk to D.C."

* * *

That was definitely weird, McGee decided. The questions that they needed the answers to were all classified. That and the fact that he was hacking into the CIA to get information that should be readily available. That was just a tad bit overboard on their part. Suddenly his phone rang distracting him from his thoughts.

"Hello, NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee speaking"

"Hey McGee, its Eric. Listen; there is a dude on your floor that just got a text message. Don't let him leave."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "To late for that Eric. The guy just got into the elevator."

"Well who's with him?"

"Ziva"

"Then tell her not to let him he is, he has contacts to terrorists."

The last bit of the sentence was what caught McGee's attention and his entire demenor changed from one of curiosity to one of deadly seriousness. "I'll shut down the base and see if there is anything else I can do. Want to talk to Gibbs?"

"That would be nice, Agent McGee" Callan said, speaking up for the first time.

"Hey Agent Callen, Give me just a moment." McGee said as he put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Boss!"

"What McGee?"

"LA is on the phone and needs to talk to you. I'm shutting down the base."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the last statement, as he stuck out his hand for the phone.

"Terrorists" Was McGee's explanation as he handed the phone over.

* * *

Ziva was in shock. Mr. Williams knew her father. Or to be accurate, a friend of his worked with her father a lot, so they had met a couple of times. And he seemed to know a couple of people high up in the American intelligence community as well. Ziva was pretty sure that it was not normal for such an unassuming man to know so many powerful people. Just who was he? Who was his friend for that matter? He had come in acting like he owned the place but ever since he had gotten the phone message he started to act differently. He had typed out a single message on his own phone, sent it and then put it away. All the nervous energy that he had been bouncing with earlier was now being contained, and focused. It was unnerving to see this man acting like someone with her training, instead of the college student he appeared to be. The elevator reached the bottom floor, jolting her out of her thoughts. The doors rolled open and Ziva stepped out. The moment she did, her phone vibrated, alerting her to a message. She glanced at it, whipped around and drew her gun, as Gilbert and Matthew were exiting the elevator. "I'm sorry." She said training her gun on them "But you can't leave."

Matthew, as he had repeatedly told her to call him, simply raised an eyebrow and an expression of confusion settled on his face. But he complied and stepped back into the elevator. He gave Gilbert's jacket a tug as he did so but Gilbert remained where he was, staring at her, his own face blank. Another tug and a muttered "Gil", and the man relented stepping back inside the elevator. Ziva followed and pressed the button for floor three, keeping her back to the panel watching them, watching Gilbert in specific. His eyes hadn't left her face and she stared right back. After a few moments, Ziva blinked, and Gilbert grimaced slightly. "Schisse" he said and directed his attention to the silver doors in front of him.

"Gil?" Matthew asked, and Ziva looked at him. There was no way he was a terrorist. She still had trouble believing that he had been one of the Mounties. "What's going on?"

"Dein Bruder ist ein idiot" was all Gilbert would say.

Matthew leaned against the elevator wall next to him. "Yes, well we know that." He paused. "This is all his fault then?"

"Ja." Was the response, and the elevator was silent the rest of the way up.

* * *

Gilbert propped his feet up on the table and started to tap his fingers as he stared into the mirror on the wall opposite to where he was sitting. He was bored. They had taken his phone and stuck him in here. Nothing much to do but sit, tap and study the room. It was a boring room. An interrogation room he realized, and not the more comfortable conference room that he and Matt had been in earlier.

It had been a while since he had been in one of these, Gilbert mused. Not since Russia, if his memory was correct. Hopefully that wasn't what this was about. He hated Russia, that goddamned bastard. He hated everything about that person, that place, and he was not going to remember that. There was something funny though. He had gotten rescued. Thanks to a couple of Americans, of all people. They had rescued him, and they hadn't even known who he was. Then he told them the last name he had used, and they had gotten him to his brother. The agents didn't know the full extent of that they had saved him from or what they had done for him, getting him out of there. But it didn't change that Gilbert had owed them one. Three months later, once he was as recovered as he could be with his land still under Russia's control, Gilbert had tracked them down. It had been really amusing to crash their op and help them take out their target. Oh the looks on their faces, when he did. Gilbert couldn't help it; he started laughing at the memory. Those were good times. The laugher died down into a smirk as Gilbert continued to remember. He had stuck around with the agents for a while, helping out and saving them once or twice, getting his revenge in at the same time.

It had been strange to see Leon again, Gilbert thought, holding the smile. He hadn't seen the man since before the wall fell, and he had no clue what had happened to Eli, but damn Leon got old fast. He'd also done well for himself as far as Gilbert could tell. The looks people had given him as he tried to figure out who the guy was told him he was important. And old. Couldn't forget that. That was the problem with getting to know people he reminded himself. You got to know them, you started to care, and stuck around. Normal people aged. He, Matthew, Alfred and the rest of them didn't.

And that was a problem. But not one that related to this particular problem as long as he remembered that he didn't know Leon or Eli. And his name had never been Johan. Nope, not a problem at all, Gilbert decided. This problem was all Alfred's fault, the asshole. He had gone and done something stupid, sending that text from a different phone number. It defiantly wasn't his and was probably the reason that he was now in this mess. Stupid. But then he and Matt had known that Alfred was probably caught up in something when he disappeared a month ago.

At least the ass had warned him about his problem. That was nice. Gilbert had already alerted Ludwig and Westen would alert everyone else so they would know to ditch their phones until the next meeting. Which was in a month or so. The location, time, and date had already been predetermined, thanks to his brother, and so no worries there. Just a lot of hassle in getting everything redone. Nothing could be done from here, so all Gilbert had to do was wait until someone showed up to talk to him. Just wait, that was all. Gilbert huffed in annoyance. He wasn't good at waiting. He could do it, he just wasn't good at it. They had taken his phone, which was another clue that it was something about the text message, but he was bored. Bored of sitting, bored of waiting. He had done enough of both already today. Gilbert stared harder at the window, and the tapping of his fingers ceased. There didn't appear to be anyone there, and even if there was he didn't care. They would only get to experience his awesome. With that thought in mind, Gilbert pushed away from the table and began to rock out to whatever random music that he could think of, complete with bad singing.

Behind the window, two agents stared at the man Agent Gibbs had brought into interrogation.

"What the hell is he doing?" one of them asked

The other shrugged "I have no idea"

* * *

**AN:** So like I said, I lied. You guys get another chapter after all. I do apologize about the shortness, but it was the best place to put the break. So this chapter is mainly my insights to Gil's head and gives those who dont know of Hetalia a chance to see how I perceive the character of Prussia, aka Gilbert Beldishmitt. And the introduction of LA to the story. Cant forget that.

It is an amazing feeling to be gone for a week, with no internet access and to come back to find out that one has jumped from 3 to 7 reveiws, 3 to 5 favorites, and 9 to 15 reveiws. You guys are amazing. Its also really nice to know that there are people who are looking for typos and have not found any. I'm also glad that my head cannon details (the blood match) turned out ok in the story. Just a quick question, how many of you found this through the Hetalia fandom and how many found it through the NCIS one?

And now for my standard end of, if you like it, please leave a review. If you didn't, please tell me why not. If you have questions ask away. If you found a typo or accent mistake please point it out so that I can fix it. And if you have the time, please check out my other story American Magic Cubed, which is forthcoming to this account but still can be found on the site.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** MIA: Missing In America

**Summary:** NCIS is called in to what should be a simple case: find a missing Marine. However, the case is quickly complicated when it is discovered that the missing Marine is the best friend of two other Marines, one of whom has been dead for a month and the other who is still missing.

**Pairings: **None/Canon and PruCan if you squint. If I managed to write it right, that is.

**Warnings: **Language, UST, possible Out of Character moments, and random references to other fandoms that the Audience may not understand. Apologies for bad German/Canadian/accents. Set after Jenny Shepard's death, but before Eli David's. This is a Triple crossover between NCIS, NCIS: LA, and Hetalia: Axis Powers

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to their respective owners. I simply play with them for my and your amusement.

**Authors Note: **Hey Guys! So this is the chapter for the month of May. Luna Safire is an amazing person who agreed to Beta the story for me. Do you know what that means? Well hopefully it means that there are no more comma errors and the accents are all right. But if you see something wrong let me know anyway. Oh and if anyone can read, write, or speak French or German fluently send me a PM please. I am going to need help.

* * *

Chapter 4: Ancient History

* * *

The reason that no one of importance was watching the spectacle in interrogation was simply because the whole team was currently sitting up in MTAC per Agent Callen's request. They were sitting in front of the screen, listening as Agents Callen and Hanna filled them in on their latest op, which was tracking down a terrorist cell and finding out who their suppliers were.

"So we had been tracking that phone for a week or so, looking at the messages, because we had intel that said the owner moved money for the cell. Yesterday at eight AM Pacific time we lost the phone. It turned off, and the owner conveniently disappeared. Today, a few minutes ago, it turned on, sent this text message, and then we lost the signal again. We traced the GPS of the phone's last location to a park in LA and the message to you guys. Kensi and Deeks are on their way to the park right now to see if they can find it or the owner." Callen finished. "Who was it that got the text in your building anyways?" he asked curiously.

"The significant other of the brother of a missing, presumably dead Marine. He didn't say much to any of us, mostly just talked to his friend. Although…" Tony said, pausing at the end to glance at the Director. "He had a strange reaction when he saw Director Vance."

"Really," Sam said, then asked, "Strange how?"

"He was confused when he first saw him, then he appeared to recognize the Director, and then he seemed surprised, as if he hadn't expected to see him there." Tony said, shrugging in a what-can-you-do gesture.

"Do you know him, Director?" Callen asked

"Maybe." Vance said, not really wanting to go into details.

Hetty, Callen, Sam, and Eric just stared at him. "Care to explain, Director?" Hetty asked, and Vance sighed. He didn't, really, but it might be important, so he began.

"Twenty years ago, my partner and I rescued a man by the name of Johan Günter from where he was being held prisoner in Russia. He was heavily injured, but we managed to get him back to Germany. Three months later, he showed up completely healed in the middle of another op, and helped us take down several Soviet spies."

"Ah," Hetty said, realizing whom they were talking about now. When people looked at her in confusion, she elaborated. Barely. "Your albino mystery."

There was a pause and Vance continued with a "Yes. Anyways, the man who got the text message, Gilbert Beilschmidt, looks exactly like he did, minus a couple of scars that Johan had."

Eric had picked up the tablet and begun typing in names as they were mentioned. A ping from his computer stopped him, and he tapped on the newly arrived email. "I just sent the file," McGee said, looking at Eric, who then pulled up the information on the screen for everyone over there to see. "Anyways, Mr. Beilschmidt has a record. A sealed juvie one, a couple of drunk stunts, and a couple of nights in jail, but nothing that screams terrorist. He got good grades in primary through secondary school, but his attendance was spotty all the way through. He went to an art college to learn sculpting, and apparently never showed up for any of his general classes, but passed them all with high scores. He moved to Ottawa from Berlin after a fight with his brother, and opened up his own contemporary art shop. He's relatively well known in the regional modern art scene and makes decent money for what he does. Every few months he'll close for a week or two and travel somewhere, probably looking for inspiration or something. Anyway, as far as Russia, Germany, and the CIA are concerned, Johan Günter doesn't exist. I figured out one of the dates earlier, Director, and pulled up the NCIS, CIA, and German reports. In the American files, any mention to a third or in some cases fourth member of the team is simply referred to as _A German Intelligence Officer_. The Germans did the same, only they called him _Our Man_, or _Our Officer_, or something similar. Copies of the reports I could find are in there too. Whoever Günter was, they were trying to protect his identity and did an excellent job of it."

The room fell silent as the LA agents scanned the files. Hetty humphed when she saw the picture of Gilbert. "That young man," she said, "is the spitting image of _my_ albino bastard. He's missing a couple of scars, though, and has some new ones too."

Everyone looked at her, and Hetty stared right back. Finally Sam asked, "_Your_ albino bastard?"

She sighed and then said, "Ulric Recke was his name. He was a German ex-military officer that abandoned me in Romania because he had family issues."

"Got them!" Eric exclaimed, replacing Gilbert's file with the current investigation, and again the DC agents waited as patiently as they could for the LA agents to catch up. It didn't take long, as Sam barely glanced at the name before exclaiming, "Alfred is missing?"

"You know him?" Ziva asked curiously.

"Yeah. He was in one of the last classes that I trained." Sam said. "He's a crack shot, followed orders even if he didn't agree with them, is great in a fight, could take a beating, had a pair of lucky glasses that he didn't need, and pair of lucky sunglasses; he called both pairs Texas. He liked to joke around, but sometimes his pranks could go too far. Alfred could be the most loved or hated person in the class at any given time, but no one ever held a grudge against him. The kid had amazing survival instincts, which really came in handy as he had no sense of direction, even with a map, but he always somehow ended up in the right place at the right time."

"So you don't think he's dead then." Gibbs said.

Sam didn't even pause. "Did you find a body?"

"No."

"Then no, I doubt he's dead. He had something of a reputation for getting out of impossible situations with only a scratch."

"We found 2 liters of blood at the crime scene."

"Mm," was Sam's only response.

"We'll question Beilschmidt and let you know what we find out." Gibbs said.

"Alright, Gibbs," Callen said "We'll keep working on the terrorists from our end."

A nod and then a jerk of a hand signaled the end of the conversation. As Gibbs turned away, he heard Eric say "Guys, the phone's back!" and Callen's response of "Call Kensi" before the screen took on its normal offline color scheme. Tony and Ziva had already left, racing to see who could get to the interrogation room first. McGee waited a moment to hand Gibbs a printed version of what he had found on Beilschmidt before heading off to Abby's lab. Tony and Ziva could watch the interrogation, but he had work to do.

* * *

The normal reaction to being left alone in an interrogation room was generally some form of nervousness. Every person had a different reaction, and in his line of work, he had seen a lot of them. But this reaction, Gibbs thought as he opened the door to the interrogation room, was in a class of its own.

The suspect, Gilbert Beilschmidt, was dancing on the table and singing something in German. Badly. Suddenly, he stopped, as if he had just realized that there was someone else in the room with him. He whipped his head around to look. Blue eyes met red again, and Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Gilbert, who had a lazy smirk growing across his face. The staring contest didn't end even as Gibbs walked to the table. Gilbert jumped down from said table, landing lightly despite the combat boots he was wearing. They both grabbed their respective chairs and sat down at exactly the same moment, but Gibbs's attention was now on the folder in his hand. The silence in the room was only interrupted by the occasional flipping of pages.

Gibbs ignored Gilbert's stares until he realized that the man was reading him, or trying to anyways. Normally, that was a habit that a person had picked up as a street kid, and it would have been lost by now. But reading people was a good skill to have, and since when had anything been normal about this case anyway? Gibbs flipped through the pages one last time. Nothing new jumped out at him, so now it was time to get the boring questions out of the way.

"You are Gilbert Beilschmidt?" Gibbs began, phrasing it more as a statement than a question, but Gilbert answered anyway.

"Yes."

"Mr. Beilschmidt, what are you doing in D.C?"

"Gilbert." He said, completely relaxed. "'Mr. Beilschmidt' is _mien bruder._ Und I am here to help Matt look for his. "

Gibbs just "Hm"ed in response, jotting Gilbert's answer down on the notepad before continuing on to the next question.

* * *

"Kensi?" came the voice over the phone. "Where are you right now?"

"On the way back from the park. We didn't see anyone suspicious or who looked like the suspect. Find something?" she asked, putting the phone on speaker.

"Yeah. The phone came back online. It's not doing anything, but we got a new location from it. It's in Santa Monica."

"It's where?"

"You heard me."

Kensi nodded at Deeks, who changed lanes abruptly to get to Freeway 10 heading toward Santa Monica. "Is it moving?" she asked.

"Hasn't been for a couple of minutes, so the guy should still be there."

"Where is 'there,' exactly?"

"Is it on the Pier?" Deeks piped up from the driver's seat.

"No, but it's right in that area, near Arcadia Terrace."

"Alright," Kensi said, "we're on our way. May take a while because Deeks drives like a grandma."

Deeks protested, but was ignored in favor of Callen cutting in. "Well, let us know when you get there."

"Will do." Kensi said as she hung up the phone.

"I," Deeks said again, "do not drive like a Grandma."

"Says the man going 55 on a freeway with a limit of 65."

"You've gotta watch for the traffic patterns!" Deeks said, then grinned. "You go with the flow."

Kenzi just groaned.

* * *

"McGee, how old is the suspect?"

"Mid to late twenties, Abby." McGee said not even looking up from what he was typing into the computer.

"And what does he do?"

"Metalworking artist." McGee paused as he finished inputting the data. All he would have to do now was wait and help Abby out.

"Does he have any interest in ancient languages?"

"Not that I know of," McGee said, coming to stand beside her. "Why?"

"Because these text messages are hinky, McGee!" she said, throwing her hands up into the air, and McGee just looked at her. She thrust one had at the paper on the table in front of them. "This is the message that Beilschmidt received. Very cryptic, very vague, and not giving any clue at all as to what a code 484569 is or to what WC2KA2WY2CA means."

"Okay…" McGee said, not really seeing where his friend was going with this. She sighed and pointed at the other paper on the table.

"This message is the message Beilschmidt sent. It's obviously in another language, and the only thing the same is this number sequence. The man is German, so that's the highest possibility for the language that it should be, but some of these words don't even exist in modern German."

"Ancient German then?" McGee asked, now thoroughly confused. Gilbert's records had not shown that the man had any interest in any history. In fact, according to his transcripts, history had been his worst subject throughout his schooling.

"Really ancient German, like in the time when Germany was just a bunch of smaller countries, and the Kingdom of Prussia had just been started."

"That's really weird," McGee agreed. "Any luck on actually translating it?"

"I'm working on it. I can only go so fast, you know." Abby looked up and realized that McGee was right behind her for the first time. "Why aren't you tracing the message?"

"I am. The data is in the computer. I'm just waiting for it to tell me something," McGee explained as the computer let out a beep. Abby made shooing motions and McGee hurried over to the computer and let out a groan.

"What's wrong?" Abby asked, not looking up from her almost finished translation.

"The message pinged off a couple of satellites and is now running through a couple of proxy servers. The noise was an alert to a dead end." McGee said and the computer dinged again. He returned his attention to it and started typing furiously as Abby returned to her translation.

After a few minutes of nothing but typing and muttered words, two voices simultaneously exclaimed "I got it!" and the owners looked up at each other, both eager to tell the other the news of their discovery. Abby waited as McGee glanced back at the computer and frowned. "I've almost got it," he amended. "I managed to get it past the set of proxy servers. It's tracing right now."

Abby was bouncing. "I translated the message. It's really weird, and I feel like I've read it…" she stopped mid-sentence. "McGee!"

"What? I'm listening." McGee said, looking at her.

"No, McGee, the trace!"

"What about it?"

"Look at it!"

"Okay, okay looking!"

There was silence. "Is that what I think it is?" Abby asked hesitantly.

"If you think that that's the Bundestag, then yes." McGee said. "Specifically, the higher offices of the Bundestag."

"It's narrowing down to a specific office right now!" Abby pointed out, and the two watched the signal narrow to a hallway by some very important offices. Suddenly, there was a noise and the computer flashed an error screen displaying the message "Connection lost." Both of them stared at the screen in disappointment.

"What were you saying, Abby?" McGee finally asked staring at the screen in dismay.

"Oh, right. I was saying that I feel like I've read that line somewhere before. I don't know where, and I still don't know what the other two things mean."

"Wait," McGee said. "You've seen it before?"

"Mmhm. I think so anyways. But not the codes, just the text. "

"That's really strange, Abby."

"Yeah, I know. Give me a moment to think," Abby said, and McGee obliged. The lab fell into silence again, save for the whirring of machines.

After a few moments of this silence, McGee spoke up. "Hey Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"I need a copy of your translation. I have to talk to Gibbs."

Abby nodded and made her way over to the printer where she grabbed a couple of sheets of paper. "Here you go," she said, holding them out to him.

"Thanks," McGee said, grabbing the papers. "I gotta tell Gibbs." He turned to leave.

He managed to make it to the door before Abby called out, "McGee! I remembered!"

McGee turned to face his friend. "Really?"

"Yeah. My archaeological friend found a series of old German diaries in a monastery a couple of years ago. That line is a direct quote from one of the books."

"How does a man who apparently does not have an interest in history know about that?"

"I have no idea but that's not the important part!"

"What's the important part?"

"Well, it's a warning, only it's a really vague warning and doesn't say anything outright."

"Alright, I'll tell Gibbs," McGee said and left the lab with Abby calling after him.

"Highway patrol found a car 5 miles from the house that they think may have been used to cart Samson and/or the body and brought it over. I'll be in the garage if you guys need me."

"Right," McGee said as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

"Ziva?" McGee said in confusion as he walked into observation. "I thought you went to go keep an eye on Mr. Williams."

"He has met my father," she replied, not turning from the window. "Gibbs thought it would be best to get Tony to watch him."

"Ah." McGee nodded. "Has he started actually interrogating him yet? I need to talk to him."

"So far, he has been confirming the information that is in the record."

"Great," McGee said and walked back out of the room and into the hall, Ziva following. She stood slightly behind him as McGee knocked on the door to interrogation and opened it.

* * *

Gibbs put down the pen that he had been writing with and glanced at the pad. It was full of his impressions and yeses signifying that the information in the file was correct. He was about to start asking questions that he really wanted the answers to when someone knocked and the door to interrogation opened. He looked up at the door in annoyance and McGee poked his head in. "Boss?" the agent said hesitantly. "Found something."

Gibbs nodded and stood, grabbing the file and paper that he had written on before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. "Well, McGee, this had better be good."

"It is. Beilschmidt is better connected than we thought. That text message he sent? It was routed through several proxy servers and satellites…"

"McGee."

"Sorry, boss. I managed to trace the phone to the area of the Bundestag where the higher offices are, but it dropped out before I could I could trace it to anyone in specific."

"That it?"

"No, boss. Abby managed to translate the message our suspect sent. It's a quote from an obscure German manuscript, even though his records show no interest in that area. Abby also wanted to apologize for not being able to decode the message that he received or tell what a Code 484569 is supposed to be."

Gibbs nodded. It was annoying that McGee had not been able to find out exactly whom Beilschmidt had sent the message to, but knowing that they were high in the German government was almost as good. Abby's information was also interesting, but together, they only added to his gut feeling that something was off. All things considered, though, they hadn't done a bad job. "Good work, you two," he finally said before taking the papers offered to him and slipping them into the folder. He nodded at McGee and Ziva again before turning around and reentering the interrogation room.

* * *

**AN: **And Ch 4 is long to make up for how short Ch. 3 was. But anyways I hoped you guys like the story. So that was May's chapter and I hope you liked it. Please, please, please, point out accent errors if you see them. I am American, not German or Canadian, so if something said is horribly wrong, that is why.

So spoiler alert. There will be different languages in the story. Specifically French and German. While I am learning how to speak German, I am no where as proficient as I need to be to get the point across and I dont speak French at all. So if anyone can speak and write either of those two languages fluently, as in not using a translator, then would you please PM me?

And now for my standard end of the Authors Note, if you like it, please leave a review. If you didn't, please tell me why not. If you have questions ask away. If you found a typo or accent mistake please point it out so that I can fix it. And if you have the time, please check out my other story American Magic Cubed, which is forthcoming to this account but still can be found on the site.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** MIA: Missing In America

**Summary:** NCIS is called in to what should be a simple case: find a missing Marine. However, the case is quickly complicated when it is discovered that the missing Marine is the best friend of two other Marines, one of whom has been dead for a month and the other who is still missing.

**Pairings: **None/Canon and PruCan if you squint. If I managed to write it right, that is.

**Warnings: **Language, UST, possible Out of Character moments, and random references to other fandoms that the Audience may not understand. Apologies for bad German/Canadian/accents. Set after Jenny Shepard's death, but before Eli David's. This is a Triple crossover between NCIS, NCIS: LA, and Hetalia: Axis Powers

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to their respective owners. I simply play with them for my and your amusement.

**Authors Note: **Hey, Guys. How are you? So I have found a French translator – thanks Dark Void Princess 21 for doing that for me. You are amazing. And thank you to Luna Safire for betaing this. Once again, I am not Canadian or Prussian, so if you see a mistake in the accents, please let me know so I can fix it. I also feel the need to clarify something here. There is no PruCan. Now all of you may wish there to be PruCan and I agree with you but I wanted to keep the story free of slash because its my first story. The implied PruCan was a plot point as a way to get Gilbert to stay in the conference room with Matthew. As Gil has no obvious relation to Matt, they would have kicked him out and I could not let that happen because of the plot. NCIS still thinks that they are involved because no one has bothered to correct them. The PruCan is a red herring. Sorry guys.

* * *

Ch 5. Lost things found

* * *

They had finally arrived in Santa Monica. Honestly, Deeks's driving wasn't that bad, but traffic was, and it had taken them longer than the estimated time to get here. Surveying the park, Kensi noticed that there was still nothing out of the ordinary happening nor was there anyone who matched the description of their suspect. Pulling out her phone, she called ops. "Hey," she said into the phone. "We're here, I don't see anyone or anything unusual, except the person standing next to me." Deeks stuck out his tongue and she rolled her eyes at him. "Where are we relative to the phone?"

"It should be within 500 yards in front of you, Kenz," Callen said.

"Hey, Callen, what did DC have to say?" she asked, looking around the area again. Still nothing odd. A park worker emptied trashcans; people walked, skated, or rode their bikes. Deeks had moved slightly ahead of her, strolling along looking at the ground to see if anyone had dropped the phone.

"The text message went to a phone in the NCIS building in DC. The man who got it has a connection to a case that they are working on right now. They filled us in and they sent their files over. Sam and I are going through them to see if it has any real connection to our case other than the text message."

"Alright," Kensi said. Pausing a moment, she called to Deeks, "Find anything?" He shook his head. "Is it still here?" she asked Callen.

"Yeah, you should be…" he stopped and Kensi could hear someone in the background saying something, but she couldn't make it out. "Never mind, Eric says it's moving again."

"Where's it going?"

"North."

"'Kay," Kensi answered and nodded at Deeks, pointing in the right direction with one hand. Deeks nodded back a confirmation and started going that direction, actively looking for their suspect or a phone. He didn't even try to blend in. Kensi followed slightly behind him. "Is it going fast?" she asked after a few minutes.

"No, it's stopped again just up ahead."

"Let me know when I'm close," she said into the phone and continued walking. This was beginning to annoy her. They were having no luck finding suspicious people, their suspect had managed to stay one step ahead of them the entire time, and they couldn't even catch up to him.

"Stop!" Callen said.

"What?" Kensi asked.

"You're right on it."

Kensi looked into the alley she had stopped next to, having not seen anything else indicating the presence of the suspect or his phone. The only thing around that could remotely be of interest was the set of dumpsters halfway down the alley. "Here, Callen? Are you sure it's here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No one is here except beach-goers, and not a single one of them resemble our suspect."

"Well, according to the signal, you're basically right on top of it. I'll have Eric call it. Give me a moment."

"Alright," Kensi said, "but there really is nothing here except the dumpster I'm standing next to." A pause, then Kensi swore as a cheerful little tune filled the ally. "Damn it."

"It's in the dumpster?" Callen asked sympathetically.

"It's in the dumpster," Kensi confirmed. Walking to the alley's entrance, she yelled, "Deeks! Found it!"

Callen sighed. "Come on back when you get it," he said

"Right." Kensi agreed and then hung up.

"You found it?" Deeks said, walking back to his partner.

"Yeah."

"Alright!" Deeks exclaimed. "Where is it?"

Kensi snickered and pointed down the alleyway. In the silence she could still hear the phone ringing from the dumpster. She may have had a problem going through trash, but Deeks was much worse about that aspect of their job. The look on his face was priceless. "You're kidding," Deeks said, his voice pleading. "If that was a joke, it wasn't funny. Please tell me that that was a joke."

Kensi shook her head. "No joke, partner. It's in there."

Deeks groaned and pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket.

* * *

Matthew was worried. He could lie and say he wasn't, but he had been repeatedly informed that he was a bad liar. He wished he could just lose himself in the Alfred Hitchcock conversation like the NCIS agent that was watching him could. Tony DiNozzo was what he had introduced himself as, and he had achieved the American Dream. The man was descended from Italian immigrants. He appeared to be well off, and was a rich man turned cop like a character from a Hollywood movie. And he was obsessed with movies. _Yep,_ Matthew thought in momentary amusement, Tony _DiNozzo is definitely one of my brother's people._ And the thought would have been even more amusing and the conversation would have been more interesting if he weren't so worried. Why had they needed to talk to Gilbert anyways? Why had Gilbert told him his brother was an idiot? Had he actually called him an Idiot? Matthew wasn't sure, as his German was not that good, but it was likely. Actually, the better question was, what had Alfred done that Gilbert was calling him an idiot?

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice asked and Matthew looked up to see Tony looking concerned. "You kinda zoned out there."

"I'm fine." Matthew said and at Tony's look, he amended the statement. "Well, I'm worried. Why did you guys need to talk to Gilbert again?"

Tony shrugged. "If I knew, I wouldn't be able to tell you."

Matthew nodded. "I figured as much, but it doesn't hurt to ask."

Tony nodded his agreement and they fell into an uncomfortable silence that was quickly interrupted by a phone ringing. Both men patted at their pockets and it didn't take long for them to realize that it was Matthew's phone. He pulled it out and stared at the number. Why did Francis always call at the worst times? "Can I take this?" he asked Tony quickly. At the agent's nod, Matthew flipped open the phone. "Bonjour, Francis. Comment ça va?" _Hello Francis. How are you?_

"Matteiu!" came the apparently surprised reply. "Mon ami!" _My friend!_ The obnoxious French voice continued, shock changing into relief. That was strange. Why was Francis worried? He didn't get much time to ponder as Francis continued in his normal excitable voice. Matthew winced and held the phone a little bit away from his ear, and Francis's voice spilled out into the room. "Il est charmant de te parler encore. Je fais bien, merci pour me demander. Je désire que j'avais te téléphonés pour bavarder mais on a un problème." _How lovely to hear from you again. I am doing well, thank you for asking. I wish I'd phoned to chat but we have a problem._

"Un problème?"_A problem?_ Matthew repeated in confusion.

"Oui. Reste près avec nôtre ami commun, d'accord? Il peut t'aider" _Yes. Stay close to our mutual friend, okay? He can get you through this._

"Francis, qu'est-ce qui ce passe?" _Francis, what is going on?_

"Un code a été activé." _A code has been activated._

"Un code? Lequel?"_A code? Which one?_

"Regard ton téléphone. Écoute, Gil l'avait fait ceci déjà donc reste avec lui, bien? Je besoin de parte. Je vais te voir en un mois, oui?"_Check your phone. Listen, Gil has done this before so stay close to him, alright? I have to go now. I'll see you in a month, yes?_

"Francis, si te plait, quoi… non, t'inquiète pas. Tu expliqueras celui à moi plus tard n'est-ce pas?"_Francis, what… No, never mind. You'll explain this to me later right?_

"Si je devrais."_If I have to._

"Je verrai me rappeler ce promet. Maintenant aller où tu besoin d'être avant tu es tard."_I will hold you to that promise. Now get going to wherever it is that you are going to before you are late._

"Bientôt!"_Goodbye._ Francis ended the call abruptly. Matthew just stood there, confused. Francis said to check his phone, so Matt pulled up the only unread text. "Code 484569. CNA." _Well that makes sense,_ Matthew thought dryly, trying to figure it out. Why did Francis call? Why had he been so relieved to hear from Matthew? What was going on? And was Alfred involved in all of this? Was this, whatever it was, the reason that he was missing?

"Hey, are you still okay?" Tony asked, interrupting Matthew's musings. "Your friend sounded rushed."

"Yeah," Matthew said softly. "I'm ok." But he didn't say anything else, simply continuing to stare at the phone.

"Who was that, anyway?" Tony asked. Matthew glanced at him, pocketing the phone. "Just curious," Tony defended, shrugging.

Matthew just nodded, his mind abuzz with other thoughts. "My cousin," he said absently, feeding Tony the cover story that he was using this time. "After our mom died, Alfred and I were split up. I was sent to live with our cousin in Canada for a couple of years. Alfred stayed with a different relative in Boston. My guardians had to leave, so I went to live with Alfred. Francis and I stayed in touch, though, and we meet up periodically."

"That's cool," Tony said.

"Yeah. We don't get to see each other as often as we used to," Matthew said, thoughts whirling even faster inside his head. None of this made any sense to him, and it was making him panicky. He needed to stop talking about his "life" or something was going to slip. Right now, the best thing he could do for himself would be to re-examine everything he knew about this mess. Such a method had kept him calm during the wars so there was no reason it shouldn't help now. Matthew took a breath and focused his wandering thoughts. _Let's see,_ he began. _Alfred has been missing for a month. Gilbert and I have been looking for him for almost that long. We arrived in Washington D.C. just to find out that Al is not here and NCIS has been looking for him almost as long as we have. We came in to talk to them and learned that they think he's dead because there's a large amount of blood but no body. That probably means that Alfred did get hurt or die, but recovered quickly enough to leave before NCIS or the police got there. Gil got a text from a number he didn't know while we were leaving. That text made him freak out and he tried to get us to leave faster. NCIS then said that they couldn't let us leave and Gil called Al an idiot but didn't elaborate. They took Gil to interrogation and I was escorted here._

_But why?_ Matthew wondered as he leaned back in his chair. Now that he had reaffirmed his facts, there were a lot of questions that needed answers, like _why had Alfred gone missing in the first place? Why did NCIS need to interrogate Gilbert? Who sent Gilbert the text? Why had Gilbert caused Alfred an idiot this time? Why was Francis so worried? What is a Code 484569? Why was NCIS acting the way that they were acting? _Matthew couldn't think of anything. The only possible thing that would get this reaction was if… he sat up straight and blinked hard, as the pieces fell into place. Alfred's disappearance. Gilbert's reaction. The name-calling. Francis's relief. Code 484569. Matthew let out a loud groan and placed his head on the table in front of him. Gilbert was right. Alfred was an idiot. "My God," he said in French, his native language slipping out as he gently knocked his head against the desk, letting the weight of the situation settle. "Mon frère est un foutu idiot. Il est le seul personne que je connais qui laissera un code 484569 se passer ensuit va et se résoudre d'être le foutre héro. Merde, merde, merde. Francis était correct. On avait un problème" _My brother is a goddamned idiot. He is the only one I know that would let a Code 484569 happen and then decide to go be a freaking hero. Shit, shit, shit. Francis was right. We do have a problem, _Matthew said to himself and hit his head on the table a couple of times for good measure.

"Hey… are you sure you're ok?" Tony asked, clearly very confused.

Matthew turned red. He had completely forgotten where he was. Thankfully, his brother's people tended not to learn that many other languages, or otherwise what he had just said would have caused a lot of issues. But that wasn't the problem. He needed to go off the grid. But he couldn't. Not while he was here. And now he needed to think of something to tell the agent fast. "No, not really," Matthew agreed, finally settling for a half-truth. "I just remembered something important and because I didn't remember it sooner I may have screwed everything up for myself. But I don't know for sure, and all the worrying is giving me a headache."

Tony nodded in agreement. "That would suck. Do you want some water or something?"

"Yes, please. Water sounds good right now." Matthew said, still resting his head on the table.

"Alright, then," Tony said, walking out of the room. "I'll send someone in with it."

* * *

_Well, that was interesting,_ Tony thought, shutting the door behind him and pointing at one of the agents nearby. "Agent Drew, get him some water and then stay in the room with him. I need to talk to Gibbs." Tony tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the other agent to take his place at the door. Apparently Williams and therefore Beilschmidt knew more about the situation than they had let on, at least according to Williams's over excitable French cousin and his reaction. But that was all provided that he had understood the French correctly. It had been a couple of years, after all, and Canadian French had different slang. Either way, Gibbs needed to know this ASAP. Judging by the time, his boss would still be in interrogation with Beilschmidt, and if telling Gibbs meant until waiting until after the interrogation, that was just a bonus, in Tony's mind.

* * *

**AN: **So how do you like the chapter for June? Its kinda short and chapter 6 will be longer. It might also be up later this month because of how short this one is. I'm not sure yet, it will depend. Thank you to those who offered to translate things into a different language for me. I now have it covered. Thanks again to Dark Void Princess 21and Luna Safire for that.

And now for my standard end of the Authors Note, if you like it, please leave a review. If you didn't, please tell me why not. If you have questions ask away. If you found a typo or accent mistake please point it out so that I can fix it. And if you have the time, please check out my other story American Magic Cubed, which is forthcoming to this account but still can be found on the site.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** MIA: Missing In America

**Summary:** NCIS is called in to what should be a simple case: find a missing Marine. However, the case is quickly complicated when it is discovered that the missing Marine is the best friend of two other Marines, one of whom has been dead for a month and the other who is still missing.

**Pairings: **None/Canon and PruCan if you squint, and GerIta if you want to read it that way. If I managed to write it right, that is.

**Warnings: **Language, UST, possible Out of Character moments, and random references to other fandoms that the Audience may not understand. Apologies for bad German/Canadian accents. Appologies for misuse of Languages. Mentions Alcohol. Set after Jenny Shepard's death, but before Eli David's. This is a Triple crossover between NCIS, NCIS: LA, and Hetalia: Axis Powers

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to their respective owners. I simply play with them for my and your amusement.

**Authors Note:** Hey Guys. So this is a little interlude that is important but not really part of the main story line. Either way, its taken forever to make it so that I liked it and was willing to post it. Also once again I would like to thank Luna Safire for being my Beta reader, and for finding me a German translator. Speaking of that person, I don't know who you are but I appreciate that you translated the German bits for me.

Bold means something is supposed to be a written message. Italics normally means that its supposed to be an English translation of something.

* * *

Ch 6. Annoying Interruptions

* * *

Ludwig Beldishmitt leaned his head back against the bulkhead of the train. Today was supposed to have been a good day. He had plans with a friend for dinner and drinks and better yet he had almost finished all his paper work. However all of his plans had gone down the drain and it only took an hour for the catastrophic failure to occur. He sighed and started going over the days events in his head, in hopes that it would give him some sort of clue as to what was going on.

* * *

It was 8:30 in the evening, and he was running late. Had he been another sort of man Ludwig would have groaned in annoyance, but that was not in his nature. Instead he simply frowned. He had initiated the trace 30 minutes ago and it had not returned yet. As much as he wanted to turn of the computer and let it sit until morning, he knew that it would be impossible. Especially as it concerned his brother. Leaving anything alone when dealing with Gilbert was just courting disaster. Why was anyone looking into his brother's cold war aliases anyway? He had thought the problems from that time were over and done with.

A soft ping sounded in the room surprising him and he ceased drumming his fingers. He glanced at the screen. Finally, he had results. Ludwig pulled them up and read once, then twice and closed it as he started to shut down the computer. Who the hell was NCIS? It sounded familiar and vaguely American. Ah well. Now that he knew who he was dealing with, he could leave it until tomorrow. A small agency like that wouldn't be able to cause that much trouble in one night. At least, that's what Ludwig tried to tell himself as he packed up. Why did that name sound familiar? Why were they asking about Johan Günter specifically? How did they even discover his existence? Those questions and more buzzed through his head like an angry swarm of bees hunting for one very specific flower. Ludwig wished it would stop. He was getting a migraine.

His wish was partially fulfilled as he locked the door. A NIS agent working with a Mossad operative had freed Gilbert from Russia during the cold war, a fact that Ivan was still not happy about. Soon after that, NIS got a new director, budget, and name. If he remembered correctly, it was now NCIS. And Leon Vance, the NIS agent from that time was currently the director. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that his information was correct and that meant that it was nothing to worry about. Someone was probably just researching his or her director's career and the name had probably been mentioned in passing. However the worry would not recede. What if they found something?

Enough, Ludwig told himself firmly. They wouldn't find anything. He knew that the name had been expunged from all of the records. He had done most of the expunging himself. There was no reason to act so paranoid. None at all. Right now, all he wanted to do was put this issue into a drawer and enjoy his dinner with his friend. He resolved to do exactly that when his phone went off.

What now? Ludwig wondered, as he pulled out his phone. The time flashed at him, once again reminding him that he was late. Well, if he was late, then this phone call would not be serious. In fact, it was probably just Feliciano worrying about him. Flipping the phone open Ludwig glanced at the number. The worry that he had just banished returned to settle in the pit of his stomach. This couldn't be good, if his brother was texting him. He pressed the center key and began reading the message.

**Ich glaube nicht **/ _I don't think you remember_, it began, **dass du dich daran erinnerst, aber als du jünger warst, nahm ich dich zur Seite und warnte dich über die Menschen. Ich erzählte dir davon wie sie sich von uns unterschieden und was sie tun konnten. Und du, als das leicht zu beeindruckende junge Ding das du warst, hast zugehört und dir diese Worte zu sehr zu Herzen genommen.** / _but when you were younger I took you aside and warned you about people. I told you of how they were different from us and what they could do. And you, as the impressionable young thing that you were, listened and held those words a little too close to your heart._

Ludwig just shook his head at the puzzling text. He could only hope that this was his brother's idea of a prank. If it wasn't, well then… he needed a drink. Actually he needed to head home. On the plus side, Feliciano probably had already opened a bottle of wine. He read the last two lines of the message and nearly dropped his phone. _Code 484569_. _Cont. NAC – USA._

Ludwig blinked, then scowled. He hoped that he had read that wrong. He risked another glance at the phone. Nope, the cryptic message was still there, followed by the ominous _Code 484569. _Shit. Ludwig thought as he forced his train of thought to the situation at hand. Moments ago he hadn't really cared about why NCIS was looking into his brother's past but now it had suddenly become crucial that he find out. Unfortunately, there were not many people that he could trust with the task of figuring out the connection between the Code and Johan because of what else they might find. In fact, that eliminated anyone who he normally worked with but Ludwig knew just who to call: Kiku Honda, his long time friend. He glanced at the time. It was early morning there, and Kiku might not be up yet. Better safe than sorry, Ludwig decided and sent a quick text. He could call later after he had spoken to his boss. The text sent, and Ludwig was able to breath easier. One problem solved, Ludwig thought in triumph as he made plans for what needed to be done next. First he would need to get his backup items out of his car. Activation of Code 484569, regardless of where it was supposedly contained to, meant that he had to assume that everything was compromised. His phone, his car, his job, and even his house were all on that list. Ludwig froze. Oh god, Feli was at his house. Ludwig shook his head. Feliciano would be safe there for the night at least, and then he would have to create new contingency plans. Ludwig left the building and walked down the street towards his boss's office, jabbing at the keypad as he went. The phone was answered on the third ring, much to his relief. "Veeee-" A soft voice breathed into the phone "You've reached the home of Doit, I mean Ludwig Beldishmitt. He's not here at the moment, can I take a message?"

"Feli, its me." Ludwig said, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

"Veeeh? Doitsu are you coming back yet? Cause the pasta is nowhere near done!"

Ludwig was momentarily distracted by that statement. Pasta? What did pasta have to do with anything? He was suddenly getting flashbacks to the first war. No. He could not think of that now. His friend's unhealthy obsession with carbohydrates was unimportant. "Nein, not yet. How are hyu settling in?"

"Very well Doitsu!" The person on the other end of the line chirped back at him. "I put my stuff in the room that I normally use."

"That's good. I ahm callink to let hyu know that sumtink came up und I haf to talk to my boss so I may be late."

"Really? That's too bad Doitsu. In that case, I wont start the noodles yet, just the sauce." Feliciano told him.

Ludwig almost smiled at that. Feli seemed to be safe, and if he wasn't, well, even in a crisis his friend's first concern was pasta. "Alright then." He said into the phone. "I vill be back soon."

"Bye Doitsu!" Feliciano said and the line cut off with a click. Ludwig flipped the phone over and pulled the battery out of the phone. One way to trace him was gone.

* * *

Despite all appearances to the contrary, Feliciano Vargas was not an idiot. He was willing to admit that he was naive, useless at fighting, and weak, but he was not an idiot. No, he was rather smart and it had allowed him to adapt. If he hadn't, well then he wouldn't have survived. He went with the flow, made the best decisions that he could with the information he had, stuck by his friends, and enjoyed life while he could because sooner or later they would be back in a war. That need to survive had given him many skills, including being very good at reading the situation, which was how he knew something was wrong.

His first clue was the fact that Ludwig had called and said he was going to be late. Ludwig Beldishmit, -time-is-late-and-early-is-on-time, had called to say he was late. That meant something had happened. Something serious. And Ludwig wasn't telling him what was wrong. And he probably wouldn't either. Feliciano knew it wasn't because Ludwig didn't trust him, because he was pretty sure that he did. No, Ludwig just had a bad habit of trying to do everything himself. But Feliciano was tired of his friends getting hurt because he was weak. So now all he had to do would be to figure out how to get Ludwig to tell him what was going on. His cellphone vibrated in his pocket, and Feliciano pulled it out. A text message from Ludwig. Probably about whatever had happened. His hand hovered over the button that would reveal the message, but he didnt press it. Instead he slid the phone back into his pocket. Whatever was going on, Ludwig could tell him himself. He had promised that he would be back soon, and Ludwig kept his promises. But he wouldn't want to talk about this, Feliciano realized. He would have to draw the information out of his friend. How does Fratello get Antonio to tell him things? Feliciano wondered as he wandered back into the kitchen to work on his pasta.

* * *

Ludwig had just finished disassembling his phone when he reached the building his boss worked in. He did not bother to stop at the security checkpoint. They knew who he was and did not try to stop him, allowing him to proceed unmolested to the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall. Knocking once, he entered the room and the Chancellor, his boss, looked up to see who it was. Upon recognition she said "Wie geht es ihnen heute, Herr Beilschmidt?" / _Ah, Mr. Beldishmitt. How are you today? _

"Danke, mir geht's gut." / I_ am well, thank you. _Ludwig replied curtly. "aber Frau Kanzlerin, ich bereue es ihnen sagen zu müssen, aber ich habe ein Problem."_ / I regret to inform you of this but we have a problem._

That got her attention immediately. "Ein Problem?" / _A Problem?_ She asked worried. When she had first met the man she had suspected that he was a high-ranking officer of the intelligence community. A little bit of digging had proven her right, and told her that he specialized in certain types of diplomatic crisis. She didn't mind him playing diplomat because it meant that they always knew what other countries, including the ones that Germany was not fond of, were doing after one of his periodic week long meetings. It was especially helpful because Ludwig Beldishmitt had never had a problem. The fact that he had a problem and was coming to her about it meant that this could very well endanger the entire nation. "Mit wem? Was ist es?" / _With whom? What is it?_

Ludwig hesitated. "Das Problem liegt bei..." / _Chancellor, the problem lies with... _He paused again. He was not sure how to explain this, as his boss didn't know what he really was. He finally finished with the words, "meinem Volk." / _My people_

The Chancellor blinked. His people. That meant spies. She hated the politics of the shadow game. They were worse than real politics, because there one wrong move could literally mean the end of your life. "Brauchen sie meine Hilfe in der Angelegenheit?"_ / Do you need me to do something about it?_

Ludwig shook his head. "Nein, aber Danke für das Angebot. Ich bin hier um ihnen zu sagen, dass ich mit der Sache alleine fertig werden muss und während ich das mache, muss ich von der Bildfläche verschwinden." / _No, but thank you for the offer. I am here to tell you that I have to deal with this personally and while I do, I have to go off grid._

"Für wie lange?"_ / How long?_

"Eine Weile. Wenn sie am 28. des nächsten Monats um 14:00 Uhr nichts von mir hören, nehmen Sie an, dass ich tot bin und gehen Sie demgemäß vor."_ / Undetermined. If you do not hear from me by 1400 on the 28__th__ of next month, assume that I am dead and proceed as such._

"In Ordnung."_ / Alright._ The Chancellor said as she nodded numbly at this news. This must be huge. The man who never had problems was having a problem that required him to go off the grid for a unspecified period of time and where he expected there to be a possibility of him getting killed. "Sind Sie sich sicher, dass es nichts gibt was ich tun sollte?" / _Are you sure there is nothing that you need me to do?_

"Nein, danke, Frau Kanzlerin. Gute Nacht."_ / Yes. Thank you Chancellor. Good Night. _Ludwig told her sincerely then turned and left the room.

"Gute Nacht, Herr Beilschmidt. Viel Glück."_ / Good night, Mr. Beldishmitt. And Good luck.. _She called out after him, but if he heard he gave no response.

* * *

Moments later, Ludwig was back at the Bundestag. Instead of heading back inside, Ludwig headed towards where he had parked his car. Once he had reached it, Ludwig unlocked the trunk and moved the spare tire to get at the false panel underneath. Popping that open, he grabbed the bag that he had prepared in case something like this ever happened. Reaching into it, the first thing that Ludwig pulled out was another phone. Kiku had not responded before he had pulled the battery out of the old phone, and this was crucial. Inserting a new battery Ludwig dialed a number that he knew by heart. It rang a couple of times then the phone was answered with a soft "Kon'nichiwa?"

Good. Ludwig thought. Kiku had not gone off grid yet. "Hallo? Kiku? Sorry bother you. Its Ludwig. I need a favor."

* * *

It was 5:30 when his phone went off waking him up from a very pleasant dream. Kiku Honda glanced at the clock and blinked the sleep from his eyes. What was possibly so important that someone would call him at this time? Who was calling him at a time like this? He didn't recognize the number, Kiku realized as he picked up the phone. "Kon'nichiwa?" he inquired.

"Hallo? Kiku?" A familiar gruff voice asked. "Sorry to bother you. It's Ludwig. I need a favor."

"Ah, Good morning, Ludwig-san." Kiku said, a little surprised. He was pretty sure that this was not his friend's number. "How are you?" Kiku asked.

"I am vell, thank you for asking." Ludwig replied.

"That is good to hear. What is it that you need?" Kiku inquired.

"Vell, before you leave I need…"

Kiku cut Ludwig off, shocking himself with how rude he was being. "Just a moment please. Before I leave? Where would I be going?" he asked

"Hyu did not get the message?"

"No, I have just woken up. What happened?"

"Code 484569 is active." Ludwig said bluntly

Code 484569? Kiku thought. Wasn't that for when one of them was found out by… "Who has been compromised?"

"America"

"Alfred-san? Anyone else?"

"Nein. As far as we know it is just Alfred, but his brother may be compromised as well."

"Alfred-san's brother?"

"Ja, Markus or something like that."

"I see. What was it that you wished to ask of me?"

"I need hyu to find my brother."

"Why? What has Gilbert-san done now?"

"I vish I knew. He vas the one who called it in, so it vill be hard. Also American law enforcement agency was digging into one of his Cold War aliases minutes before I got the message. I need to know that that it is not a coincidence."

Kiku nodded affirmatively, as he got up to prepare his things. "I can do this Ludwig-san. How soon do you need this information?"

"As soon as you can get it to me"

"I see. I will try to work fast then. Will you be keeping this phone?"

"Ja"

"Then I will call you as soon as I have something."

"Danke Kiku. Auf Weitersen" / _Thanks Kiku. Good Bye. _

"Gubbai Ludwig-san" /_ Good Bye Ludwig_

* * *

After heading home and enjoying a surprising relaxing meal with Feliciano, Ludwig had apprised the small brunette of the current situation. What had followed, was a flurry of packing, or repacking in the case of Feliciano and a mad dash to the train station. The only good thing about this whole situation was the fact that the trains were still running on time. As such he had been able to purchase tickets for the both of them and once aboard Feliciano had fallen asleep leaning against him. Seriously though, Ludwig wondered as he tried to make himself more comfortable without disturbing the sleeping Italian, why was it that the world waited until he had little to no paperwork or dinner plans before the next crisis?

* * *

**AN:** Hey look, Im not dead! Originally this was supposed to be up in August, purposefully skipping July because Alfred is missing and thats when his birthday is... Author was trying to be funny...

But its now September, and you are finally getting a new Chapter. Its not that it wasn't written or because of life, (you know that thing Authors like to pretend that they have?). Its actually because I was having Issues with getting this part to flow with the rest of the original chapter. Instead I finally decided to cut it and give you this interlude. For those who haven't figured it out, this whole chapter was never supposed to be written out, and occurs before that last two sections of Chapter 5. Kiku currently does not have an accent because I have no clue on how to write that. If anyone wants to try and fix it, send me a PM please.

Lots of thanks to ktwontwo for helping me fix this bit. Go check her out, if only for the reason that I keep feeding her plot bunnies.

And now for my standard end of the Authors Note, if you like it, please leave a review. If you didn't, please tell me why not. If you have questions ask away. If you found a typo or accent mistake please point it out so that I can fix it. And if you have the time, please check out my other story American Magic Cubed, which is forthcoming to this account but still can be found on the site.


End file.
